ephemeral
by gryffindormischief
Summary: Another one shot collection. Canon ships, perhaps non canon settings.
1. HG - argument

A/N: Had a request for a hinny argument and apparently the wait between one shot collections is not going to be that long.

* * *

"I know you're the 'cool' dad," Ginny opens, dropping her coat and bag at the door, "But when _Headmistress_ McGonagall sends a letter about one of our children, we've got to handle it."

Lily swoops her hippogriff action figure dangerously close to Harry's glasses and sighs, "Playtime over?"

Harry presses a kiss to her forehead and gestures her off to her bedroom, and the youngest Potter trots off down the hall, brushing past her mother's hip. He waits for the door to creak shut before he turns to Ginny, leaning back on his palms. "It wasn't a big deal, Gin. I'm not sending a bloody howler for a stupid prank."

Brown eyes narrowing dangerously, Ginny somehow seems to grow larger with her frustration, nostrils flaring in a dragon-like manner. "Don't make the issue something it's not, Harry - we've got to have a clear stopping place for James, especially now that he's away half the year."

"S'nothing worse than Fred and George ever did, and you seemed to enjoy that well enough," Harry bites out before he can rethink his words.

Ginny's expression shutters but she doesn't address the poor choice of words, at least not in the way she could. "I was their sister, not their mother. If we let James go too far it'll be that much harder when he's older, when it's the important things."

"If we're constantly _hen pecking_ him about every little infraction - "

She scowls, "Bringing a half dozen suits of armor to life isn't a _little_ infraction - in fact," Ginny eyes him thoughtfully, "How did he know how to do that?"

"I'm not that stupid, Gin."

"I never said you were stupid at all," Ginny growls, impatient as she stalks toward the kitchen.

Harry follows, sulky, and plants himself on one of the bar stools. "Was _implied_."

Letting out a deep sigh, Ginny pulls a few drawers open before finding the one filled with their preferred take away menus and tosses the stack toward Harry. "Pick. And no it wasn't. Stop changing the subject."

"I dunno, isn't it just nice that he's getting in trouble for non-life threatening reasons? Just for being a kid?"

Ginny tugs the refrigerator open and pulls an icy bottle of butterbeer from inside, popping it open and taking a long, healthy swig. When she turns back, her eyes have softened a bit, though her jaw is still set.

"Yes, it's good - but that doesn't make it _okay_ to get in trouble, yeah?"

Groaning, Harry drops his head back and scrunches his eyes shut, "I'm sorry I'm such a basket case."

"You're not," Ginny chuckles softly, offering him a sip of her drink and leaning forward onto the counter, "This is your blindspot. I'm sure we'll find mine - someday."

Harry nearly snorts butterbeer through his nose. "I think yours is currently piled in the entryway, the bathroom, and," he pitches forward and sits back up with a vest strap looped over his finger, "Right here."

"You're just so much _better_ at laundry day."

"Are you gonna let me use that one to get out of disciplining the kids?" Harry teases, taking another mouthful before passing the half empty bottle back to Ginny.

"Don't be a smart ass."


	2. HG - romantic kiss in the rain

A/N: I hope you like :) tried to be romantic or something idk

* * *

Ginny waits out her walk home as long as possible, hoping the weather will take pity on her and let up for just a _few_ minutes so she can walk home in less than a torrential downpour. But the doppler, still looming dark sky, and increasingly flooded streets seem to promise no such chance.

Which is particularly problematic because Ginny has this fantastic ability to summon poor weather by simply forgetting her umbrella. And she'd really tried to anticipate this, always stashing a spare one in her desk along with a pair of old wellies - splitting a bit but better than wearing heels to go puddle hopping - but she'd forgotten to bring the umbrella _back._ Luckily, the wellies are still present and accounted for so she's got _something_ going in her favor.

The rest of the newsroom has mostly cleared out when she emerges from her office and locks the door behind her, hoping to spot some stray umbrella - she'd take a broken one being honest - but the people in this office were many things, but generous with rain gear was not one of them. So she double checks that her most important items are tucked in the innermost sections of her backpack, tucks her collar up and drags the hood over her head, and trots down the stairwell.

Ginny'd hoped that she'd be able to just plow out into the rain, and she does make it through the front doors with a nod toward Jim in the security office, but pauses just at the cusp of the overhang, raindrops already spattering her boots.

Though her hesitance is less fear of the downpour and more complete and utter surprise at the man blinking at her from beneath a broad black umbrella. "Alright, Gin?"

Taking a shuddering breath, Ginny presses her hand to her chest and smiles as a tear leaks over her cheek. "You're back?"

Harry's grin is a bit lopsided as he steps closer, rain falling from the edges of his umbrella in thick tendrils. "I'm back."

Her voice is a choked as she steps closer, rain pelting her front in a fine mist as it bounces from the pavement. "A little notice would've been nice you wanker."

And somehow, they end up chest to chest, Ginny's palms resting on his chest, woolen coat scratchy and familiar beneath her fingertips. Harry's free hand wraps around her middle as his lips press gently to her forehead. "Sorry for the surprise, Mrs. Potter."

Ginny's hands slip up his shoulders, fingers knitting into his tousled hair and dragging him closer, voice slightly less flirty than she'd hoped when she murmurs thickly, "S'alright, you'll make it up."

Nuzzling her temple until they're nose to nose, Harry grins, breath caressing her cheek as he ducks closer, "Of course."


	3. HG - show off Harry getting caught

A/N: got this prompt a while go and finally did it :) I hope you like!

* * *

People do really terrible, awful things every day and get away with it. Harry James Potter tries to sneak and get to the snack table without his mum after a football game when he's six and discovers his red dye allergy. Three hours later, he's in emergency care with an oxygen mask on his face and no team photo to show for an entire season. But he's over it, really.

His life was an endless barrage of events that simply reaffirmed the reality that Harry could very rarely get away with anything. So it was really only a matter of time before his little _performances_ bit him in the arse. He was just hoping Ginny'd have snogged him first.

It started when she'd come over to chat with his dad, getting advice and such before she went for tryouts with the national team. Harry'd been visiting his mum, which inevitably ends with him mowing the yard. Even on that unreasonably hot afternoon. At some point he'd tossed his shirt to the side, much to his mother's chagrin, in the hopes of avoiding heatstroke. But Ginny's lingering glance as she waved her 'hello' and trotted up the front steps hinted at another, much more exciting motivation.

And when she'd re-emerged, lemonade in hand, because it was a 'lovely day' and his dad had to take a call – well her eyes followed him as he made circuits across the grass and he _may_ have flexed a bit more than strictly necessary.

Since uncovering her _interest_ in his body, Harry set out to use it to his best advantage. Namely wooing one Ginny Weasley.

It works too – to an extent. Teddy sicks up on his shirt, family game shirts vs. skins, swims at the lake behind her parents' house – all excellent opportunities Harry did not overlook. And neither did Ginny, he's chuffed to admit.

But, it really was a ticking time bomb, as these things go, and Harry really should've made some other move that maybe involved mouths. Talking or kissing would work – depends on the day. To be fair, this _was_ his escalation. Just the standard, 'please help me with this suntan lotion, please.' Which would have been great, if it had been Ginny emerging into the yard while he lounged around the recent swimming pool addition to his parents' property.

"Are you using your sexy voice on me Harry? James would never approve."

Harry freezes, "Sirius?"

"And I mean, I thought you had a thing for Ginny so I'm getting mixed signals a bit, mate."

And as if the last two minutes weren't bad enough, a third voice joins the conversation, one that usually doesn't make him want to die. "He's got a 'thing' for me? I hadn't heard."

"His methodology – you probably would've seen his arse before he actually broached the subject."

Harry's sitting up by now, face buried in his hands, "I'm just going to get in the water and not come out, yeah?"

Despite his threat, Harry doesn't move, until a shiver runs up his spine as a cool hand gently lands on his shoulder. That flowery scent he loves wafts on the breeze and whirls through his hair as it ruffles with the wind. _Gin_.

She squeezes his arm once, gently, and then calls over her shoulder, "Give us a mo' Sirius? Unless you want me to snog your godson silly."


	4. HG - childhood football rivals

A/N: I head canoned some hinny stuff on tumblr and then a couple people were like DO IT so I did it :)

* * *

It's really his mum's fault.

They've just moved to the little town near Ottery St. Catchpole right at the dead center of summer hols and Harry's got no friends to speak of. Which is fine. He's a bit of a weird kid anyway, hanging around his adult godfather, Remus, and his octogenarian grandparents for fun and those opportunities didn't diminish with the move. And he'll make friends on the football team when tryouts come up in a few weeks.

But apparently when you're eight and in a new town, your mum goes batty and decides you need more friends. She means well though, and he knows she had a move when she was his age that directly coincided with Aunt Petunia becoming a right prat - dad's words - so she's sensitive to his feelings. Even if he's not having them.

Ron's cool though, and Fred and George kinda remind him of when dad gets together with Sirius and Remus. Percy just kind of sniffs at him and disappears in his room and Ron says he's just off to write swotty love letters to his _girlfriend_. Ginny though - the youngest and only girl - she's, something else.

He sees her the first time when they all gather around the table for a late breakfast and he twists to grab the bowl of fruit salad only to find her eyes, wide and brown, pinned on his face. When he smiles, awkward and a bit strained because he's an eight-year-old boy, she promptly flushes and manages to put her elbow in the butter dish. And he really does handle it better than most would, taking in the slimy tableau and darting his gaze away quickly, not even cracking a smile.

When he dares to look back, she's studiously avoiding looking in his direction and scowling a bit. But again, he's eight and there's fresh hot cakes, so any curiosity flits away with the summer breeze drifting through the screen door, and he genuinely forgets about the incident.

Until they spill out into the yard for a game of football and Ginny 'accidentally' pegs him in the head with the ball and laughs. Though to be fair, he doesn't realize it's likely less than accidental until the second time her elbow jabs into his ribcage. And then it's war. Between a seven and eight-year-old. So they end up covered in mud with a handful of cuts and bruises a piece, getting an earful from their mums while the other Weasley boys guffaw off to the side.

Really, the rivalry should have ended there, petty and unjustified as it was. And it probably would have, if boys and girls football team tryouts weren't scheduled on the same field less than two weeks later and they didn't have coordinated tendencies toward angst and competitiveness. It's an utter mess, balls flying to and fro across the field with missile like accuracy, which earns them _another_ earful – this time from coaches _and_ mums – and spots on their respective teams.

Which is why it's not utterly incomprehensible that Harry's second thought after his lips hit hers – the first is something like _holyshiteI'minheaven_ – is that his eight year old self would be completely and totally flummoxed and maybe a bit put off with his sixteen year old self. But then Ginny presses him more firmly against the scratchy grey stucco siding on the locker rooms and sighs against his lips and Harry's gone again. And he's not too macho to admit that he whimpers a little when she pulls away. "The bet's still on, Harry James. Snogging aside I _am_ better than you."

Harry flips them around and delights a bit when her eyes darken. "Our season goal counts would argue otherwise."

Ginny's hands slip under his shirt and they both freeze, eyes wide, and her voice is a bit choked when she fires back. "Year's not over yet, Potter."


	5. HG - Harry needs her to stop

A/N: FLIRTY HINNY FIVEVAR. I thought about doing something out of the box with this one but I didn't want to lol. From tumblr prompt where people send the first sentence of a fic and then I write a lot more than five sentences xD

* * *

Harry needs her to stop.

It's four in the afternoon, their house is full of people, and when those people leave they will have at least two hours of wrangling children into bed before he can get her out of that stupid idiotic -

"Trouble in paradise?" George asks quietly, a teasing note in his voice as the ice in his lemonade - and something else - clink against the sides of his glass.

Harry grunts a noncommittal answer and tears his eyes away from Ginny's form as she throws one leg over a broom and begins an impromptu flying lesson with all the Weasley-Potter-Granger-Delacour children, and then changes the subject to George and Ron's most recent venture. Something about teaching pixies to sing bawdy drinking songs - it's a bit hazy but they always make it work.

And it does keep him distracted for a bit, from his temptress of a wife, but then she floats by with nothing more than a short grin in his direction before she disappears into the broom shed with the kid and he sees it again.

 _Potter_. She'd stolen the jersey almost immediately after he played in that silly 'celebrity' Quidditch tournament to benefit the the war orphans' fund and driven him batty with it ever since.

He really should be more used to this, about two decades in give or take, but she's got her hair chopped short so it just skims her jaw and he can admire the freckles peppered across the nape of her neck whenever he wants. And then she wears the damn _jersey_. It's not any kind of weird macho ownership thing, the rush of - _feelings_ or whatever he gets when he sees her with his name, their name plastered across her shoulders. It's the reminder that it _is_ their name. He's not alone, and she chose him out of anyone to spend the rest of her life with, and has stayed with him, made a life with him. But somehow, that all translates into Harry wondering whether he can drag her off to his office and satisfy both their frustrations before anyone notices.

Because he's definitely not alone. And she's definitely doing this on purpose. Bloody minx - she'd made sure he knew _exactly_ what she was thinking when she winked at him over her shoulder, when she bit her lip and let it slip out all moist and plump - she might just kill him.

She nearly does too, when he's wandered into the kitchen with a few empty dishes and set them washing with a flick of his wand, sneaking up behind him and slipping her arms around his middle. "Doing dishes on Father's Day?"

"It's why I'm such a good dad," Harry murmurs, trying to keep his breathing regular, which becomes an uphill battle when she nips at his ear.

" _Very_ good one," Ginny whispers in his ear, "Which is why you've earned a reward."

Harry twists around in her arms and lays a blistering kiss on her lips, pulling away just enough to snort, "That I'll get to collect in about six hours."

"Nope," Ginny answers with a shake of her head and a pop of the 'p', "This is why _I'm_ so fabulous."

He hums, inviting her to elaborate and she works at the kinks in his shoulders, "Our luggage is packed, mum's watching the kids, and _we're_ heading to a little cottage in the Cotswolds where I will wear nothing but this jersey all weekend."


	6. JL - She kicked him

A/N: new prompt thing on tumblr where you can send me the first sentence :)

* * *

She kicked him.

She bloody kicked him in the shins and ran away with his favorite jumper.

James glares at Sirius and Remus where they've collapsed into rather obnoxious guffaws - it's much less fun when you're not on the inside - before running out the entryway and into the blinding almost summer sunlight.

Once he blinks away the spots, James scans the clumps of students gathered across the lush green lawn for a spot of warm auburn and finds her just as she disappears into a small corpse of trees to the west.

Breaking into a trot while studiously avoiding eye contact with anyone who may want chat about their chances against Slytherin on Saturday, whether he's likely to get head boy, what they'll get at the farewell feast, or whatever else the student body seems to think James is the ideal expert for, he manages to slip into the shadowy canopy unscathed.

And once he slows, it's not hard to locate a certain red haired menace of a Gryffindor prefect - who he's fairly certain is wearing steel-toed Mary Janes - since her verging on maniacal pacing is crunching more than a few leaves, twigs, and any other unidentified items littering the earth.

"Alright, Evans?"

She comes to an abrupt halt, sending a small plume of dirt floating around her ankles, and keeps her back to him. "Potter."

He ruffles his hair and takes a step closer. "Back to that, eh?"

"You started it," Lily shoots back, stealing s glance over her shoulder before inching away another step, working the sleeves of her sweater back over her fingers nervously. Well, his sweater would be more accurate.

"S'pose it is a term of endearment at this point," James offers, taking a longer stride in her direction until he's just behind her, hand hesitant as he grasps her forearm. "Lily."

Before he can elaborate on whatever he was about to say - and being honest he wasn't quite decided as of yet - she turns on her heel and glares up at him with those eyes. Those eyes that simultaneously drive him wild and make him fear for his life. "You're such a tosser."

"I'm not the one guilty of petty theft and fleeing the authorities."

"First, you four are hardly 'the authorities'," and when he begins to correct her she holds up a finger, "Remus' prefect badge or no. And second you are most certainly guilty of petty theft and who knows what else."

"Deflection," James muses, "the guilty woman's last resort."

Her eyes narrow and he drops the smirk, his gaze soft as he slips infinitesimally closer, "I didn't want Sirius to bring it up - he's just the one who noticed so."

"S'not your fault I stole your jumper and then got caught," Lily sighs, "Though. To be fair I didn't actually steal it. Just showed up on my bed one afternoon."

James frowns at that and Lily does the same, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger like she does just before solving a particularly complex Arithmancy problem set until they both work it out at the same moment. "Sirius."

The low growl that comes from her throat is a bit funnier and less scary when he's not the at risk party. And he's only just got the opportunity over the last months to really see the Lily Evans Scheming Face up close and personal so it still steals his breath a bit when she claps both hands on his shoulders and grins. "Wanna get revenge?"


	7. JL & HG - checking up at Uni

A/N: prompt for Jily & Hinny and some more stuff about it but I won't spoil :)

* * *

Lily taps her fingers on the steering wheel, jaw clenched while James opens and closes his mouth before reconsidering about four hundred times. When she blows out a breath, he finally clears his throat. "We're not doing anything wrong."

She snorts, "Of course not."

"It's perfectly normal to check in on your first born son when he's away at university," James continues reasonably.

"Exactly," Lily agrees, nodding.

But when James flicks the locks open and grabs for the handle on his door, Lily clicks the locks back down and drops her head to the wheel. "But we just saw him _two days ago_."

"At home - this is different," James argues, wondering whether he can unlock his own door fast enough to escape into the building before Lily can trap him again.

Lily twists her head and narrows one eye at him, "Oh my god, am I getting as deluded as you and the boys?"

"Not deluded - we've all ascended to a higher plane of understanding, welcome to true enlightenment," James replies, lofty as his fingers reach for the lock slowly.

Though it's unnecessary because Lily takes another deep breath and is already out of the car and waiting impatiently before he can blink. "Coming James? We don't have all day to sit in the lot like transients."

Still, she waits until he's slammed his own door closed and lets him throw a long lanky arm around her shoulders. "S'not wrong to want to check in - even this soon."

Lily hums. "And if we find out if he's got a girlfriend in the process - "

"No harm in that," James laughs, "Hopefully he's not back with _Cho_. She's a great player but - "

"He got a bit weird, yeah," Lily chuckles as they enter the wide glass doors, still spotless in the morning light. The doorman checks them in and they're on the lift before Lily pulls out her mobile.

James frowns, "What are you doing?"

"Giving him a little heads up," Lily answers, fingers tapping, "Don't want to catch him _completely_ off guard. Enough for him to put on trousers but not make a break for it."

"You're evil."

"Aren't you glad we're on the same team?" Lily says with a wink as the lift opens, already halfway down the hall toward Harry's flat.

After using the little trick knock they've favored since before Harry was even a twinkle in James' eye, Lily tucks her phone away and waits patiently, listening to Harry as he shuffles toward the door, and apparently bumping into a few things along the way.

The door swings open and it's decidedly _not_ Harry on the other side. "Sorry I was just getting out - " she - she being Ginevra Molly Weasley - abruptly ends her sentence on a dangling adverb and only flushes for a moment before throwing her shoulders back and tightening the knot on her towel. "You're not Harry."

James snickers and Lily bites her lip. "No."

"He's out getting breakfast supplies."

"I remember when I made Lily my famous fry up the first time," James muses, "It was the first time - "

The sentence stutters to a halt with Lily's elbow to his gut and Ginny finally barks out a laugh, throwing her head back and pulling the door open wider. "Come in, yeah? I'll just throw on some - " she looks down, "Something not made out of terry cloth."

James finds his way into the kitchen and fiddles with the coffee press, pouring the grounds in while Lily drops her purse on the table and sighs. "I told you it wasn't Cho."

Before James can answer, the door slams open and Harry's shouting from the entryway, hideously out of breath, "Gin my parents - they're - the car - it's here - ran up the stairs to - beat them - "

Lily blinks at him while James pulls a fourth mug from the cabinet and Harry freezes like a deer caught in headlights. It's a standoff like no other, a Potter family specialty. They practice it at reunions. And it's only broken when Ginny saunters from the bedroom in overlarge borrowed sweats and drawls, "You didn't."


	8. S & JL - Lily and James loved each other

A/N: it's a bit silly, but the prompt kinda calls for it haha. I hope you like :)

* * *

Lily and James loved each other, and Snape hated that, which made Sirius laugh. Mainly because _Snape_ realized before either one of those idiots did.

And it was nice to have something to shift his focus too, since Moony was much less jovial at this particular time of the month and James and Lily seemed intent on staring at each other with anything varying from lovelorn to full on sex eyes at all meals. Meaning Sirius' sole entertainment for the last week had been talking Peter down from a complete and utter meltdown in the face of their upcoming exams.

Still, in the name of stealth, it might've been better if he hadn't let out a loud bark of a laugh right in James' ear in the middle of breakfast. But nothing really gets him like seeing Snape look all droopy and angry. James startles and nearly upsets his pumpkin juice into his lap. Which would be funny moment number two of the day - can't win them all though.

It's early yet, so James just narrows his eyes, rubbing at them childishly in that way that if Sirius was a more sentimental bloke he'd say looked just like the first time they'd met. But he's not, so he doesn't get a bit choked up at the sight.

Peering between Remus and Lily, Sirius can still see Snape's white-knuckled grip on his spoon, porridge completely and utterly ignored as it drips in clumps onto the table. Because this is the part of breakfast where they get truly nauseating, or adorably depending on who you ask.

At some point, they got this little routine going. James uses the butter, passes it to Lily while she hands over the marmalade. She butters her toast and immediately drips the appropriate amounts of cream into both of their teas, adding one lump to hers and two to his. And it's the same every day, no matter what the spread - at some point they memorized each other's preferences to such a degree that half the time they don't even look away from their morning reading materials. It would be cute if it wasn't a little disturbing.

But it's _very_ disturbing for a certain Slytherin who looks three shades closer to puce with every passing day. Which means Sirius is willing to put up with googly eyes and stupid stuttering movements when they 'accidentally' brush fingers because he's got his priorities. And so long as they're not actually shagging in his lap, he's ok with anything that makes Snape this pissy.

It's all very regular too, until after Christmas hols, which had been a bit quiet since Mum and Dad Potter had both been ill, when Lily appears at breakfast looking more than a bit nervous with a slightly lumpy package in hand.

As always, James beams at her from across the table, doing that dorky thing Fleamont taught them to do and rising just slightly out of his seat as Lily takes hers. The oddity comes when Lily actually flushes and pauses awkwardly without claiming her spot. "I - I'm sorry about your parents."

She spares a glance at Sirius too, and he remembers why he's not more upset about his best mate being utterly besotted. He nods and James is still hovering and looking a bit like a strange bird with his arse extended out into the aisle. "Thanks. They're doing alright. Healer said couldn't have recovered better if they _weren't_ about a billion years old."

Lily laughs, though it's a bit strained as she shuffles her package and seems to come to some resolution. "I still - I figured - " she takes a deep breath and blows it out so her fringe ruffles over her forehead, "You mentioned your mum's buns," Sirius snorts and she glares, finally looking like herself again, "Your mum's _cinnamon buns_. And since she probably couldn't make them this year I - "

She shrugs and extends the package finally, the package which is really just a tray with a tea towel over top. "I made you some. They're probably not as good but - "

James looks a bit like a fish, so Sirius steps in and grabs the tray, setting it in front of James and grabbing a bun for himself. "Thank you Lily."

Ruffling his hair, James mutters, "Er - yeah. Thanks," he grabs one and sinks his teeth in just after Sirius ponders whether he's died and gone to heaven. James lets out a loud groan and takes another bite, moaning louder this time, "Oh my god I love you Lily Evans."

And that's when Severus Snape somehow manages to catapult his own cold, lumpy oatmeal into his greasy hair and Sirius decides he must actually be in heaven.


	9. H & JL - Prequel to Checking Up at Uni

A/N: Little shorty prequel to chapter 9 :)

* * *

The fifth time within the space of an hour Harry grabs his pocket and tugs his mobile free, only to frown dejectedly, James shares a knowing glance with Lily. And they're nothing if not well versed in the art of prodding their son for information.

It's best to throw him off, let him know you've noticed odd behavior with a look, but completely ignore it with a completely off base choice of subject for conversation. James usually favors boring local politics. "Got a letter from the zoning board this week, d'you know."

Lily bites back a smirk while Harry jolts, nearly dropping the time in his hands to the floor. "Sorry - zoning?"

His phone vibrates and Harry flushes, takes a relieved breath, but doesn't reach for his pocket this time. He's no cabbage, their boy, and by this point knows very well that taking it out while they're still mid-conversation will be the death knell for his privacy.

James hums and takes keen pleasure in dragging out his explanation with expertly crafted dullness. When his wife disappears into the kitchen to prepare a pot of tea to share between them, the laughter tickling at her lips is an assurance he's done well.

And in case he wasn't positive, Harry's own desperate look and twisted grimace are more than enough to confirm the fact. Lily returns with the tea and James isn't made of stone, or that old that he doesn't recall his own fumblings at love - mostly with a certain red head eyeing her son with unerring curiosity - so he pointedly shifts the conversation to be less focused on his son's responses. And just as he expected, Harry's hand shoots to his pocket so quickly he nearly upsets the tea into his own lap.

Whatever their conversation says, James and Lily are far from caring about their talk of the upcoming village bazaar and loads more interested in Harry's furious tapping at his mobile and uncontrolled grin.

Lily lifts her brows and James hides his smile behind the rim of his cup. _This_ will require further investigation.


	10. HG - Conversations? Socializing?

A/N: THIS ALMOST GOT REAL SULTRY IDK WHAT HAPPENED. Sentence prompt from tumblr :)

* * *

Ginny wills herself not to shiver pleasantly when Harry's fingers run over her spine, slow and teasing. "It's just a few hours."

He hums, dragging his hand down her arm until he can bring her palm to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss just over where her pulse is slowly calming. "A few hours of torture."

"I should've bargained," Ginny murmurs, nipping at his collarbone, "You're all noodle limbed and happy while I'm dateless."

Harry props his head with one hand while tickling Ginny's side with the other. "I can call the delivery boy and get you crates of dates."

"Your cheesy jokes and half arsed rhymes aren't going to work on me."

Laughing, he massages the base of her neck gently and amends, "This time."

Brows rising meaningfully, Ginny scoots slightly down his chest and presses a kiss just over his sternum, turning her gaze on him - warm and inviting. "I could make it worth your while - "

"Conversations? Socializing? Being outside my flat? Leaving this bed - sounds right horrible," Harry interrupts, chuckling when she pouts childishly.

Undeterred, Ginny slips a bit lower, dragging her teeth over his taut skin. "I'm very persuasive."

A soft smile rises on Harry's lips, his thumb dragging along Ginny's freckled cheek. "I - I don't really - " Ginny narrows her eyes in confusion and Harry pushes ahead, "You're my wife. I can suffer through one evening hobnobbing with press and athletes as long as you're there."

Ginny presses up on her elbow and raises her right hand, solemn. "I shall not abandon you, my darling dearest."

With expert ease, sheets tangling around their waists, Harry rolls until he's cradled between Ginny's legs and kisses her, slow and heated. "Though I will say going out will be _much_ less enjoyable."

Melting back into the mussed pillows, Ginny lets her lips part as Harry lets his hands wander down toward her hips, and her own grip at his long, utterly wrecked locks. As he messily kisses down her jaw, Ginny murmurs, "No one said we couldn't be fashionably late though, yeah?"


	11. HG - I could have said something but

A/N: Another prompt B)

* * *

Cool fingers brush along his hairline and when that lovely, wonderful, familiar flowery scent tickles his nose he thinks perhaps he's _not_ waking up and instead drifting into another dream, this one blissful. But then her voice sounds low and a bit choked with tears. "Get a fire call from Ron - don't know what's wrong just that you've been rushed off to _Mungo's_. Once you wake I've a mind to smack you silly."

He manages to crack one eye open to see her, blurry though the image is. "Kinky."

Ginny grunts. "Don't be a wanker - I'm risking expulsion for you."

"McGonagall would never allow it - her star player can do no wrong," Harry snorts, slowly dragging his hand across the scratchy blanket so his fingers brush her clenched fist. And he may be bedridden at the moment because of poor decision making, but he's not dull enough to miss the unusual dampness at her knuckles. "They shouldn't have called - no reason to worry."

She sniffs. "Yes they _should have_ \- you should stop being an idiot with a death wish."

"It was just bloody training," Harry grumbles, though he does work at her hand until her fingers knit with his. "Nobody's supposed to be carted off unconscious."

Gently, Ginny slips his glasses over his nose, hooking them over his ears. "You're just lucky I suppose."

"Damn idiot Macmillan has no impulse control."

Laughing lightly, Ginny scoots closer, "Not something completely foreign to you though, yeah?"

Harry lets out a short chuckle, "The D.A. had better instincts - he can't even - it was just a bloody obstacle course - nothing worse than a stinging hex in terms of pain."

"You survive an Avada Kedavra twice but a stinging hex has you in hospital?" Ginny tickles his wrist with gentle fingers.

The bed dips as Ginny slips onto the mattress next to him, her hip brushing his as she rests her ear against his chest. Harry presses a kiss to her hairline and sighs, "Macmillan panicked and started firing off offensive spells like a madman with a license to kill."

"Why not tell someone he's being an arsehole and get him on probation?" Ginny prods, " _Before_ you ended up hospitalized?"

Letting out a long-suffering groan, Harry squeezes Ginny's shoulder and toys with the fingers of her other hand with his free one. "I could have said something, but I didn't," he huffs, dramatic, "And you know why? Because I'm not a mean person, that's why."

Ginny pinches his side, "Well perhaps you should be a bit mean next time," she props herself on her elbow and scowls at him, "Save us all a scare."

The bed creaks a bit as Ginny leans forward, nose brushing Harry's as he murmurs, "Yes, dear," he kisses her soft and short, "Whatever you say."

Loosening her grip around his ribs when he winces, Ginny presses her lips to his, long and lingering, "You're damn right."


	12. HG - Didn't you hear? You're dead

A/N: WOOT. got you some early post war hinny :)

* * *

Harry groans, nearly toppling off the edge of the couch as he twists and the blanket wraps around his legs. The sunlight spears through the curtains and cuts across his eyes, a bright shard that sends splitting pain through his scull. "Bloody hell it's like knives through my temples."

There's a surprise snort that really does startle him into dropping off the couch and onto the carefully braided rug, and it all floods back to him. Sleepless nights adding up, restlessness that jars Ron from his fitful slumber until he can't bear the tiny attic space and has to get out.

He'd toyed with the idea of braving the elements, but the relentless thrum of a summer rainstorm against the uneven roofs of the Burrow had him quickly tossing out that option. Giving the Weasley clock a wide berth, he'd wandered into the living room, coaxed the fire to life with a flick of his wand and lain across the slightly lumpy couch, finally able to breathe.

And apparently he'd managed to drift off at some point and _will_ a blanket over his shoulders because he was definitely past that level of self care when he'd collapsed to the cushions. Regardless, he somehow ended up covered in one of Mrs. Weasley's quilts and as a result, in a tangled heap on the floor.

It is darker down here though, and Molly Weasley has somehow perfected the art of plush braided rugs so he's not even uncomfortable, so he really could drift back off. He's even willing to overlook the mysterious snorter if it means a few more stolen minutes of shut eye.

But alas, it's not to be, as a pair of pale, freckled feet appear in his line of vision, rounded toes wriggling against the rug. And then one prods his shoulder, gentle but insistent. "Harry."

"Leave m' be. Wan'to sleep."

The noise is more like a snicker this time, the closest thing to a laugh he's heard in a while, aside from hollow, relieved laughter. "Didn't you hear? You're dead."

That's got him awake, and sitting up so quickly the blood rushes to his head and almost has him tipping backward. He fumbles for his glasses until Ginny slips them into his palm. "I - what?"

Ginny seems to delight in his confusion, and the flush he can feel rising on his cheeks - he's neglected hygiene over the last few days, lying around fairly catatonic in various locations throughout the property. He's found a particular copse of trees enjoyable enough, though he'd be lying if he said his mind hadn't wandered to a scenario where a certain red head accompanied him -

"You're dead," Ginny repeats, holding the folded paper so a small column faces him, headline reading _Potter Posse Plays Puppeteer_.

"This - you're kidding, right?"

"I wish I was," Ginny sighs, shaking her head, "But apparently, we've been parading you around and pretending you're alive to keep the peace."

"Who - is that the _Prophet_?" Harry manages to stutter out.

Ginny nods and slides down next to him, back propped against the couch. "Want to hear my theory?"

Harry twists until his elbow is propped on the cushion and holds his head up on his fist. "Always."

"Notice anything strange?"

He prods her with his socked foot, "That's not a theory."

"We're doing question and answer reveal to keep you invested," Ginny says, prim.

Groaning, Harry drops his forehead to his bicep. "It's too _early_ , Gin."

That earns him a smack with the rolled up paper, "Don't sass me _Harry James_."

With the quick reflexes that have both kept him alive and won many a Quidditch match, Harry snatches the paper and eyes the article more closely. "No author."

And if his heart rate picks up after her hand pats his cheek, he's the only one who'll know. "Got it in one, Mr. Potter. Any guess as to why?"

"Enlighten me, dear."

Both their eyes widen at that, and Harry's not sure if she's going to kiss him or smack him for the slip - they're okay but they're not the same. Not yet.

Luck still holding strong, Harry cheats death once again as Ginny lets the flub drop and proceeds with her explanation. "You've been in hiding since - everything. They're goading you into making an appearance and giving an interview."

And her eyes are bright with mischief so beautiful his breath catches. "I propose, we give them _half_ of what they want."

Harry's brows rise as he cottons on to her train of thought, "Think Luna'll be willing?"

"Your interview is at four."


	13. JL - Today marks the first day

A/N: jily snoggin 4 ur reading pleasure

* * *

Letting out an almighty growl, Lily pitches forward, grabs James' collar, and drags his lips down to hers, frustration meaning it's about three times less romantic than her daydreams. But life with James Ignotius Potter is never as one expects.

Which is why Lily found herself lying in wait beneath the Quidditch stands while Gryffindor finished practice and James shouted himself hoarse. And if she found herself faltering at all, the sight of him lifting the hem of his shirt to swipe at his sweaty forehead renewed her resolve tenfold.

There's a universal groan of relief when James blows his whistle - Remus bought it as a joke the first Christmas after James had been named Captain, a joke that James chose not to understand - and dismisses the team. They're slow, given the brutal pummeling of a practice, and Lily's thrumming with impatience when Johnson wrestles the last bludger into the case and ambles toward the castle.

James doesn't seem eager to leave, flying low so his boots drag across the carefully clipped grass, eyes trained on the setting sun as it paints the sky in vibrant pinks and oranges. He looks so content she almost feels bad to interrupt. But then she remembers Hogsmeade and she's gritting her teeth and tromping across the pitch. "Oi!"

He startles, lifting a bit higher and twirling gracefully until he's hovering just a few paces away from her. And he looks adorably confused, hair a riot of sweaty peaks haphazardly pushed back with his goggles, red rings still marking the skin around his eyes. "Evans?"

"Don't _Evans_ me."

He sinks to the ground at that, as if her anger dropped stones in his pockets, and walks toward her hesitantly. "I- Did Sirius use that itching powder? I bloody told him - "

"No," Lily cuts in, shoving at his chest, his gloriously taut chest, "This is all you, Potter."

And then, because she had Astronomy until all hours and nearly two years' worth of training in repressing her urges, Lily grunts and tosses her hair over her shoulder and storms toward the stands.

Desperate, James trots behind her, broom braced over his shoulder as he calls out, "Lily - wait. Lily!"

Sighing, Lily drops her head against the weather-beaten panels and lets her shoulders slump. She twists around and presses her back into the wall. "I'd like to go mope in my dorm, if you don't mind."

He steps closer, a bit too close for her sanity, and brushes his chapped fingers over her cheek. "No. Just tell me what's happened, yeah? We'll figure it out."

Her face heats at the tears welling in her eyes that James has _certainly_ noticed because he's a damn thoughtful arsehole who apparently enjoys being _just friends_. Which is a real blow since he apparently decided this after they kissed.

"You. We. Why didn't you even hold my hand on Saturday?" Lily moans, "Was the kiss that bad?"

James blinks once, twice, and a third time, childishly rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses. "Was I supposed to? I didn't know - "

Which is where the growling, collar grabbing, slightly manic Lily makes her entrance. And James' surprise does her good, his mouth dropped open so she can deepen the kiss almost immediately and slip her fingers into his hair so his goggles drop to the grass. She's too caught up to care that he's a bit fish like when things first begin, and he does get with the program soon enough, hands broad and sure at her waist and maybe a bit lower.

Hers wander over his shoulders, mapping the muscles that tighten and loosen beneath her fingertips as he pulls her closer, tearing his mouth from hers as he busies himself with her jaw, then her neck. "Lily - I didn't know. I'm such a dumbarse."

Lily sighs, gripping his shoulders a bit tighter, "No. No you're - ah - today marks the first day in history -hmm - that you _weren't_ a dumbarse."

He's worked his way down to the collar of her blouse when he glances up, spectacles fogged and breath heavy, "Can I?"

"Bloody hell James."


	14. HG - You know that arrow was meant for

A/N: Ya so this turned into a Robin Hood AU?

* * *

Ginny dives forward, shoulder connecting with Harry's midsection and bringing him to the ground with a thud. He groans, shifting beneath her weight. "Your knee is hurting - certain things."

"You're welcome - you know that arrow was meant for you, right?" She's scowling when she says it, but adjusts her body nonetheless.

Another whizzes overhead and connects with a tree trunk with a sickening crack. "You want me to kiss your boots right now?"

Picking her head up, Ginny eyes their surroundings, the hooded figures shuffling through the forest with drawn swords and flexed bows. "A 'thank you' wouldn't go amiss."

"How does one thank an outlaw appropriately?" Harry murmurs, flicking at the peaked green hat resting atop Ginny's fiery, close cropped locks.

Ginny locks her knees, one between Harry's and the other outside and flips them over, their boots bumping together as they roll down a small hill, temporarily safe from flying spears and arrows. Harry wriggles his brow, "Is _that_ how you'd like me to thank you because - "

Her hand muffles his flirtation, brown eyes darting as she listens closely to Riddle's soldiers running through the forest. And Harry sobers, hand gripping Ginny's waist a little tighter but remaining still beneath her.

Overhead, the leaves are ruffled with movement, rushed footsteps crunching the detritus of the forest in loud crackles until the interloper pauses at the rim of the hollow. And even without tilting his head, Ginny's address leaves little question who's arrived, "Took you long enough, Ronniekins."

"You two don't seem inconvenienced by the delay," Ron drawls, sending a familiar smile toward Harry when he finally does glance up.

"Go give your lover a disappointing snog and leave me alone," Ginny grumps, not shifting away from Harry. In fact, her fingers are teasing a rather distracting pattern along his ribs.

Ron flushes and scratches his neck as he murmurs, "''Mione's not interested."

Snickering, Harry whispers, "They still giving each other the go-round?"

"Always," Ginny answers back, eyes dancing with humor and lips tilted with a dangerous smile that Harry's missed terribly for the last six months.

When he glances back toward Ron, he's already disappeared into the forest. Likely toward their little hideaway, burrowed deep within the trees and just far enough into the darkness that even Riddle fears what lurks inside.

He's called back to the present by the rough leather of Ginny's glove glancing over his cheek. "I missed you."

Smiling softly, he cups her jaw, fingers knitting through her hair and upsetting her hat in the process. She doesn't seem to mind, given the way she immediately rests her cheek in his palm, dipping her head until her nose brushes his. Their lips meet, tentative and gentle at first.

Until Ginny sighs and deepens the kiss, nipping at his lower lip, his tongue tickling at hers as their embrace accelerates into something entirely too raw and tender for the open air.

Regretful, Ginny pulls away and cards her fingers through his tousled locks. "We should head back, yeah?"

Harry hums.

"Though I should warn you, space is limited."

His brows raise as she pulls him to his feet and grins, playful. "Might have to share a tent with me."

As Ginny grabs her hat and drags Harry through the forest on light feet, he laughs, "I s'pose I'll suffer through."


	15. J & FE - My personality? Really?

A/N: Idk what this is but I love James and his parents

* * *

"I'm just saying, it wouldn't hurt in your efforts to _woo_ Miss Evans to try and better yourself."

James blinks, "Mum, you said to, and I quote, 'fix my personality.'"

Euphemia lays down another card on the smoking pile and shrugs, "Your personality can be a bit intense, my love."

Heedless of the sparking cards in his hands, James' jaw drops, " _My_ personality? Really?"

She eyes his hand and James finally throws down a card blindly; Euphemia evaluates her decision with more care. "I'm just trying to be helpful. You can be a bit abrasive depending on the person."

Dropping his cards to the table, James completely abandons all attempts at continuing the game. "Mum, you cancelled bridge club and sent Mrs. Trevor five howlers every hour on the hour for two days."

"She cheated."

"And you don't think _that_ is a bit 'abrasive'?"

The pile goes up in a small ball of flames and scorches the little hairs on James' arms, but he's still waiting for an approrpriate response. Euphemia glides over to the kettle and sets the water to boil. "Yes, but I didn't do it right before I asked your father out on a date."

A snort sounds from the hall as Fleamont himself shuffles in, crooked glasses and salt and pepper hair a hurricane atop his head. "Mum always had that mischievous glint in her eye - it's part of what I fell in love with," he squeezes her shoulder, "She just knew when to be soft too."


	16. RH - I dunno? Set it on fire I guess?

A/N: I've been neglecting Ron and Hermione and I got this idea so :)

* * *

Ron's flicking through their pile of mail, sorting it into four messy piles at the kitchen table when he pauses, brows wrinkled together. "Hermione? You've got mail."

"Well spotted, Ron," she snorts, barely glancing up at the growing mountain before grabbing her pink highlighter and dragging it across the page, then clicking it shut with a pop.

His foot kicks her ankle beneath the table as he frowns at the letter. "It's from Witch Weekly."

Sipping at her tepid tea, Hermione glances Ron's way as he squints at the tidy script across the front of the envelope - he really should get his eyes checked - before shrugging, "It's probably another one of those 'personalized' mailers trying to get a new subscription started. Rose doesn't care and you and I both prefer my wild hair."

Ron glances up at that, blue eyes a bit heated as his gaze dances over her messy locks, currently tied up haphazardly atop her head with a few stray pencils speared through. "That's safe to say."

Brow rising, Hermione bites the cap of her pen before resuming her reading, as if unaware of Ron's rising pulse. But he know' she's caught on by the way she tilts her jaw, exposes her neck, toys with a stray curl - she's a bloody minx. And though he is tempted, he does have curiosity to be satisfied before other desires, so he waves the envelope. "Nonetheless, I can open it? Looks like it's genuine."

"You work in business - shouldn't you know how to spot a fake?" Hermione asks, waving her hand toward the letter in a gesture that leaves the decision in his lap.

Digging his thumb under the lip of the opening, Ron answers, "Our clientele don't particularly require trick advertising - they prefer to _be_ the tricksters."

Hermione breathes out a laugh as Ron pulls the missive free and scans the contents, "S'not advertising - well, it could be but I'm not sure what the purpose would be."

Another highlight, orange this time. "Care to enlighten?"

"They want to do a piece on you - career women with families and such," Ron murmurs, still reading the letter as he summarizes, "What will you do with it?"

Setting down her pen, Hermione frowns, thoughtful, "I don't know - burn it?"

Ron lets the letter drop to the table and swipes a carrot stick from Hermione's snack plate. "Why - imagine if something like this had been in Witch Weekly when we were at Hogwarts."

For the first time, Hermione focuses her full attention on Ron, brushing her books and papers aside before claiming a carrot stick of her own, though she fiddles with it rather than taking a bite. "I - I suppose that would've been - important, in a way."

Smiling softly, Ron steadies her hands and scoots closer, thumb brushing her knuckles. "Like it or no, you're a role-model - a good one."

A flush rises on Hermione's cheeks and Ron chuckles, "Don't be embarrassed, I'm your husband. Should hope that I say nice things about you."

Leaning forward, Hermione cups Ron's face and strokes his jaw gently. "You're probably the sweetest man I've ever known."

"Don't go spreading it around - I've a reputation to keep up."

Hermione chuckles and relaxes back into her chair. "Never," she begins tugging pencils from her hair and thrusts one toward the dropped letter, "I'll think about it - doing the interview or whatever."

Rising, Ron presses a kiss to her forehead and pours himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "Well I hope you do it - I want a Hermione Granger-Weasley poster for my wall."


	17. HG - I could say there's a silver lining

A/N: this prompt is cute. the anon on tumblr pointed out that silver linings are a hinny thing so this fits perfect xD

Update: fixed a silly mistake someone on tumblr noticed xD

* * *

Ginny's always known that as far as there are roles in their relationship, she's the positive outlook partner. And she's never had an issue with that reality. Glass half full, looking on the bright side and such have always been things that came fairly naturally to her.

But even the most innate qualities can be tempered or momentarily diminished in the face of the extenuating circumstances. A concept for which this situation most definitely qualifies.

Slowly, she picks her way from the entryway toward the loo, equal parts dreading and looking forward to her imminent shower.

It's pleasant, most of the time, to come home and enjoy some silence after a day full of shouting teammates and overeager beginning journalists and their photographers. But for the last two weeks, she and Harry have been a bit like ships passing in the night, his late nights and her early days meant they merely shared a bed for a few hours until she rolled from the mattress well before sunup.

Today had been particularly undesirable, an early morning call for a team photo shoot by the sea, complete with two full crews of photographers, stylized versions of their uniforms, and sand in places Ginny prefered to keep access limited. Still, even without the release of drills and practice games and practiced formations, there was something beautiful about flying along the coast. Where, if you got your angle just right, it seemed as if you were ages away from land - suspended over dark waves without a care in the world.

Until the shoot director barks at you to hit your mark and nearly startles you from your perch high above the wild ocean. Good old Bartholomew, so on task and aware of everything. Save Ginny's pale complexion and the sun's ability to reflect most unforgivingly off the water.

It would be a most lobster-like week for Ginny Potter née Weasley, but she was home and would remain so for just over half of the aforementioned week. Which would hopefully mean she'd cross paths with Harry for more than a few shared hours of sleep.

Muscles sore from prolonged posing and flying and what have you, she's finally feeling the tightness after being relatively inactive for the last quarter of an hour or so. Gradually, Ginny ambles into the loo and twists the shower on with a few squeaky twists of the handle - lukewarm to ease the mess from her body without overheating her reddened skin.

It's like some cosmic joke, Ginny muses as she tries to gently work the soap over her abused skin, that the very moment when you least want something rough and abrasive running over your body is often the time when you find yourself become some sort of sand covered monstrosity.

Despite her complaining, the day had been beautiful. A few carelessly tosses quaffles, salty air fresh from the vast beyond swirling into her lungs and bringing newness like only the sea can. And there's something blissful about being utterly and completely worn out after a day spent under the sun's glowing rays.

Which is pretty poetic, if she says so herself, but also a reminder that she's tired enough to consider twisting the spray off and curling up in the damp bath with a fuzzy towel. Luckily, she does realize that might not be her best idea, and manages to exit the shower and dry off with minimal wincing and groaning.

She's still a bit damp, skimpy pajamas sticking to her skin as she ponders her options for relaxing without ratcheting up her pain levels to an unbearable level. A thought process interrupted when the flop flares and Harry exits the flames, gawky, covered in ash, and all around her favorite thing to see at the end of a long day. Long week. Long month.

His shoulders loosen as he drops his satchel to the ground with a clatter and takes two quick strides to stand before her, arms already gathering her into his chest.

It's comforting and warm and familiar and everything she's been craving for too long to think about, but he's also squeezing her - hard.

"Harry, dear, I'm a little fried tomato."

He pulls away and his hands grab at her shoulders and push her far enough back to take full stock. A bit too firmly. "Gentle - gently. I'm a broken woman."

Letting his grip on her shoulders relax, Harry cups her jaw lightly and presses a soft kiss to her forehead, to the cluster freckles he's long since memorized; though with a less pink-ish hue. "You can't be trusted with your own bodily safety."

Ginny scoffs. "A bold accusation coming from you, Harry James. And be nice, I've practically baked myself to being done."

His thumb brushes her cheek, "It's not all that bad."

Slowly, with much care, Ginny drops her head to his shoulder. "I could say there's a silver lining here, but this really sucks."

His lips glance over hers before he tugs her toward the bedroom. "You've got a husband with a long weekend and a masterfully cared for aloe plant that says otherwise."


	18. HG & co - Broken bones, family, pranks

A/N: Prompts combined with my own idea from a while ago :) Your reviews always make me smile 3

* * *

A poor attempt at a whisper sounds from his right side as he wakes. "Is daddy gonna get a fake leg like Moody?"

He can't help the snort that rises automatically, though the all over ache it triggers makes him wish he had. His mouth is like cotton and tastes like something died. Which it feels like he maybe almost did. His lips feel sluggish and his tongue is basically useless as he murmurs, "I think I've got all my limbs, Al."

The world is blurry, mostly equal to his usual vision when he's operating sans glasses, but he can see his little family gathered close around the bed. Cool fingers find his hairline, gentle despite the bite in Ginny's tone when she answers, "No. Your father's legs are in place - just broken. Again."

Lily Luna droops toward Harry from her perch on Ginny's hip, childish fingers grabbing for him in a general way.

Sensing an imminent _chat_ with his wife, Harry sends his best grin her way - much less effective when you break off mid smile and grab for your now bleeding split lip - and reaches to bring Lily next to him on the bed. Of his three children, she's probably the least likely to start yanking at tubes and bandages and such but it's still a gamble.

She presses a messy kiss to his jaw, concern in her voice when she whispers, " _Break_?"

Harry pats her hair relatively blindly, tipping his forehead to hers. "Nothing wrong with a break or two. Bones especially, can always be mended."

Ginny's grunt goes unnoticed by Lily Luna who has apparently decided she's reached her limit for time spent not prodding his abused ribs. When he winces, one of the boys - too tall to be anyone but James - speaks up from the foot of the bed, "Oi! Lil, you're gonna mess him up all over again."

And even with this poor eyesight, Harry can see her panic stricken face and sends a glare at James while Ginny comforts Lily.

Albus takes the opportunity while four fifths of the family is awash in drama to sidle up to Harry and slide his spare glasses into place and offer a cup full of icy water toward Harry's lips. He's still so young, Albus is, but those eyes - Harry'd never really grasped the idea of an old soul before his youngest son arrived.

He looks a bit pale, which isn't that unusual for his complexion, but the bags under his eyes certainly are. Lily and James are begging for snacks and keeping their Mum more than busy, so Harry grabs Albus' hand. "Alright?"

Albus bites his lip. "You were asleep for a long time."

Harry steals a glance toward Ginny, hair a frazzled mess, clothes wrinkled and stained in a few places, then finds her worried gaze examining him like she's not used to him being conscious of it. "Was I?"

A nod. "Mum was worried."

"I'm sorry."

Spindly fingers needlessly disgusting with Harry's bedclothes, Albus takes a steadying breath. "Do you have to be dangerous all the time?"

For a moment, the usual explanation that it's his job, what he feels meant to do, unfinished business to be done rises to his lips. Except, where it had been true and right before, it feels unnatural and more like an excuse than anything.

When he murmurs, "I s'pose not," Ginny freezes for half a second, voice going a bit pitchy as she tries to continue her chatter with the other two.

Harry's going to let the eavesdropping go until he sees errant tears slipping down her cheeks before she swipes them away. He turns to Albus. "Who's outside in the waiting area?"

"Uncle Ron."

Pressing a kiss to Albus' forehead, Harry asks, "Think you can wrangle those two outside and ask Uncle Ron to get you some snacks?"

Albus snorts, "As if Uncle Ron would ever say no to food or pranks."

James has wandered over to Albus' side. "Why would he? Pranks are cool."

Once Ginny gets the three young Potters adequately arranged and instructed, they wander into the hallway, using slightly more volume than appropriate for the emergency wards at Mungo's.

They're silent a moment before Ginny perches on the edge of Harry's bed and lifts the water to his lips. She's quiet when she asks, "Did you mean it?"

He did have recent trauma that seems to have involved head injury, so Harry takes a moment to relocate whatever tidbit she's referencing, but he gets there soon enough. "I was going to bring it up soon but things got so busy - I'm up for a promotion."

Ginny waits.

"Which could involve more work in a teaching capacity and less in the field."

She nods, face forcefully blank.

"And I want to take it."

Her face crumples and she takes a shuddering breath, tightening her grip on his hand as she brings it to her lips. "Oh thank god, Harry - it's been so. I know how important it is, was, to you to be _in_ it. But - "

"I've got a different life's work now, yeah?"


	19. JL & S - I moved out to get a dog

A/N: lil short silly one :) I was so glad some of you at least enjoyed the last one, I gave myself potter family feels

* * *

Lily scowls, "But I moved _out_ so I could get a dog."

Her pronouncement is met with blank stares, both boys doing rather guppy-like impressions until Sirius grumps, "Padfoot - is he not _enough_ for you?"

Turning to James, hoping perhaps he will step in as the voice of reason, Lily finds herself sorely disappointed but not particularly surprised given his recent evasiveness when she suggested visiting the local shelters to browse. James' eyes narrow. "Well?"

With a sigh, Lily flops back against the couch cushions and puts a hand to her forehead. "This is not the same - you have to see Padfoot is _not_ the same as me having my own dog."

Sirius grasps the quaffle he'd been tossing overhead to his chest and turns to Lily abruptly. "How could you say that?"

"I - how are you not seeing this," she looks between the two of them, "I can't let you snuggle in bed with me - it's weird."

She sees James beginning to falter and latches on like a - dog with a bone. The obsession is growing the longer she's deprived. It's a problem. "Half the time when I want a dog it's because you're both out and I'm lonely. Full moons?"

James is losing interest so Lily unveils her best argument, "Fine, but James can you honestly tell me it _won't_ bother you to have Sirius lick me regularly?"

Sirius winces, "You make it sound so perverse," he elbows an unmoving James, trying to rally his ally with little success.

Finally, James glances at Sirius, pats his silken hair, then turns to Lily, "We'll go in the morning."

He rises and is halfway to the kitchen before he turns back and points an unwavering finger at Sirius, "No more 'kisses'."


	20. HG - Hey, I get it Don't worry about it

A/N: I MADE MESELF SAD. but it's hopeful too ?

* * *

There's almost nothing worse than those quiet, shocked seconds between asking someone on a date and when they finally respond. Surpassing this particular brand of agony is the moment your potential date's lips form the word _no_.

It's even worse though, in some odd way, when the individual is the most enchanting, witty, beautiful woman you've ever met and she's trying to let you down easily. But you can't hear anything past the blood roaring in your ears.

Harry swipes his hands on his jeans and tries to will a brittle smile to his lips. "You don't have to - I get it. Don't worry about it."

Ginny reaches for his hand and some small part of him, the part inclined to self preservation, wants to pull away. But the large part of him wants to enjoy the little comfort it gives. Because despite the splintering of his heart, she's always been that warm smile, the friendly laugh - just being in her presence manages to thaw even the most frigid parts of him on his worst days. He doesn't know quite how he managed to last six months without her.

"Harry, it's not - I _want_ to," Ginny begins, wide brown eyes soft as she steps closer.

Squeezing her hand, Harry manages a more authentic smile, sad though it is. "It's alright. I'm always melodramatic when I've got jet lag."

Her laugh is quiet, fond. "I remember."

"Just give me a few days, sleep and lick my proverbial wounds," Harry murmurs, ruffling his hair, "I'll be okay."

Ginny brings both hands to his shoulders and gives him a little shake, "Well maybe you can tell _that_ Harry I just said no _for now_. I haven't been single long - I just need time, yeah?"

Gently, she slips her fingers up the his cheek, tilting his face so her lips can find his other, bristled with the shadow of his beard; a kiss long and lingering enough that his eyes have fluttered shut by the time she speaks again. "Don't move on - just wait."


	21. L & S - First meeting with Padfoot

A/N: This is a little serious? prompt for a little sort of prequel to a fic I wrote before but reading that's not necessary for this (or vice versa). Gadarene in case your curiosity has been piqued haha

* * *

After the _incident_ , Lily takes to wandering a bit too close to the Forbidden Forest. A deliberate distance that gives her an argument if a teacher shows up and starts shouting about safety but nearness that means most students will either understand her implicit 'leave me alone' message, or be too afraid to follow her.

It's not that far off from the end of term, meaning she'll have a whole summer to mull and avoid and probably get a part time job to keep herself busy. In the meantime, she finishes out her classes, sticks to the girls she knows best, and finds solace in the quiet of the forest when she can't bear the heavy gaze of her former friend.

Her daily walks aren't as bleak and dark as it may sound, she's seen a few magical creatures scampering through the underbrush, made daily contact with the Giant Squid by way of a far off wave of a long tentacle, and Hagrid's taken to leaving her a little basket of treats every few days.

The farewell feast is less than a week away and Lily's walk today is more nostalgic. She'll miss her little communion with the Scottish countryside - somehow she thinks a walk through industrial Cokeworth won't quite measure up. Her distraction means she doesn't notice the dark furry lump blocking her now well worn path, said lump's nervous glance, or the fact that she'll soon be face first in twigs, leaves, and whatever else litters the ground on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.

Her lately missing luck seems to return, at least in part, when she discovers the animal she's encountered seems no more dangerous than the average stray dog. Though its coat seems a bit more sleek and shiny.

Aside from a low whine and a baleful look, her companion doesn't react and Lily recognizes a similar sort of dejection to what's been weighing on her heart like a rain soaked cloak for the last month. Perhaps longer, if she's honest. The cracks started appearing well before that day by the lake, not that it made the pain of the final blow any less.

This, here, really is the worst part of it. Grief, she's learned even in her short life and shorter experience with it, is an unpredictable arsehole. One moment, you're moving through your day without sparing a thought to the pain of the past, the next it feels as if your stomach's been filled with lead and a vice has wrapped around your lungs. The unpredictable feeling hits her right here, pressing and heavy so she can't bring herself to do more than roll to her back and stare into the canopy of trees and listen to the dark birds that call to each other overhead.

Blinking away angry tears that rose unbidden, Lily finally notices the dog hasn't fled, just curled in on itself with a heavy sigh. Lily swipes under her eyes roughly and offers her companion a wry smile. "Life can be shit sometimes, eh?"

The dog huffs.

"Good sometimes too though."

Somehow, the dog gives the appearance of a skeptical raised brow.

"I know. It's been rough for me too, lately," she sniffs and laughs to herself, "Not that you much care or want to hear."

There's a rustle, and she glances over to find the dog padding toward her before it settles its head across her stomach, breaths warm across her middle. "Maybe you do?"

It nuzzles closer and Lily brushes her fingers through its soft fur, "I s'pose I'll start at the beginning - Snuffles. May I call you that? You do snuffle an awful lot."

A huff.

"I'll take that as a yes."


	22. HG - Maybe I didn't!

A/N: I got this prompt a while ago and I finally did it! Happy birthday my beautiful baby Ginny I heart you.

* * *

The phone's rung three times when Ginny's almost convinced she's making a huge mistake. It's been almost four weeks since they last spoke, since things got out of hand and what they had slipped through her fingers.

If she knows Harry, he's staring at the phone, debating the pros and cons of answering while pacing a hole in his living room floor. He's really a lot more thoughtful about this type of thing than most people would assume given his childhood history of breaks and sprains after jumping from swings and rolling down hills, and his adulthood spent riding motorbikes and taking flying lessons and chasing criminals with a staggering lack of self preservation instincts.

Luckily, or unluckily, depending on which moment you ask Ginny, Harry answers on the fifth ring, sounding almost as if he's out of breath. "Gin."

And it's in that one syllable that Ginny knows she can't let him get away, no matter the excuses or arguments in favor of cutting and running. The warmth that runs through her at the love she can still hear in his voice, despite their ability to hurt one another.

She blows out a breath. "Hi Harry."

He clears his throat, their game of conversation chicken rapidly nearing the point where one of them will have to make a decision - will it end prematurely or mushroom into a mess of lost chances and missed connections. As Ginny tilts her head to glance at the darkening sky overhead, Harry asks, "How's Wales?"

The laugh she barks out comes unbidden, but it's just so _Harry_. Pushing off that confrontation, making awkward small talk like they haven't had - ever. Ginny bites her lip, "S'alright. How's - "

"Closed the case," Harry hedges, as if he's not discussing catching one of the most prolific serial murders since Jack the Ripper, "Not sure if you saw the - "

"Internet?" Ginny snorts, "I'd have to be dead to not know."

His chuckle is stiff and Ginny hates it. Hates that they've come to this. But it won't be for long, if she's got anything to say about it.

And now, with things changed as they have, she's got plenty to say. A conversation that needs to be had, and definitely not over the phone. Which is why she's standing in a bland beige hallway staring at the slightly crooked gold _6B_. "So anyway, you should open your door."

She hears him stumble - in person rather than through the phone - while he stutters out an unintelligible string of consonants and vowels before he settles on an eloquent, "Wha'?"

The tail end is live and in person as Harry swings the door open, looking utterly cozy and tempting in a worn blue jumper and soft cotton joggers.

Ginny welcomes herself inside, pushing past his shoulder and dropping her travel bag and trench across the chair tugged out from the table - currently strewn with half finished sudoku puzzles and more than a few coloring pages with varying levels of accuracy.

Harry flicks the kettle on and questioningly gestures with a mug toward her. Ginny nods, kicks off her shoes.

Can't throw out a woman with no shoes on.

While Harry putters, Ginny squares her shoulders and pads into the kitchen, propping her hip against the countertop and running her fingers over the tea towel Mum gave Harry as a house warming gift. "I haven't told anyone."

He startles, almost like he's forgotten she was there. Ginny sighs. "That we broke up."

"I wasn't aware anyone knew we were together in the first place," Harry murmurs, pulling milk, honey, and lemon from their shelves and settling them on the counter. Then two spoons and tea leaves - Ginny's favorite Darjeeling.

"All the same - I'd like to revisit the issue."

Silence settles as Harry studiously focuses on preparing the tea, recalling with expert accuracy Ginny's preferences, before leading the way toward the living room.

He claims the armchair, tufted and filled with many glorious memories between the two of them. But Ginny's not letting her focus divert. Not today. So she perches herself on the edge of the sofa. "I know we're not together in the official sense."

Harry squeezes his eyes shut. "We agreed - "

Ginny's temper pitches up at a rapid pace. "Maybe I _didn't_ agree - Have you considered that?"

A blink, two, and Ginny realizes he's genuinely confused. Or still sleep deprived. After a moment, he speaks. "You - I thought you understood."

"Understanding and _liking_ it are two different things," Ginny answers, voice quieter as she sips at her tea in an attempt to calm her temper, "And neither of those have anything to do with whether I am content to maintain the status quo."

"Nothing has changed - I - Not really," Harry begins, the same argument she'd allowed to succeed before. The argument that's been running through her mind the entire month she's been in Scotland as she conducted interviews and combed through game photos. The argument that became less and less convincing the longer she considered it.

"Everything has changed," Ginny says finally, "You caught the bloody bastard and he's not coming back from _that_. Are you telling me you're going to be alone forever because of some hypothetical situation where your enemies fight back?"

"I - " Harry stutters, but never continues.

Ginny bites her lip, then reaches across the table and lets her fingertips brush over Harry's clenched fist. "I know. I know what happened to your parents. And I know you've got every reason to be paranoid about everything, all the time."

"Moody says - "

She pins him with her gaze. "You mean the man everyone calls Mad Eye. The man who assaulted his own garbage bins."

"He wasn't wrong about the intruder."

"But he is alone - all he has is the job," Ginny summarizes, "And I know he's ok with that. Just as much as I know you are not."

Ginny sets aside her tepid tea and stands, closing the distance between them until she's looming in front of him, knees pressed against his as his lips part. Gently, Ginny lifts his own mug from his hands and sets it on the side table. "Budge over."

Harry blinks. "It's a chair."

"A chair we haven't had trouble sharing in the past."

"We were - "

"Yes. And hopefully we will be doing that and more before the evening is over," Ginny cuts in, tugging up her skirt so she can settle her knees on either side of his hips, his knees holding most of her weight as her palms cup his jaw. "I love you, Harry James Potter. And you love me. Anyone who wants to hurt you will figure that out soon enough."

He snorts. "Is this supposed to be helping?"

Her thumb runs along his cheekbone, "It's supposed to illustrate the utter pointlessness of torturing ourselves."

Harry's gaze softens as he brings one broad hand to the back of her head, fingers knitting through her hair and tugging her closer until their foreheads are pressed together. "Now what?"

Ginny's hands shift to his shoulders, kneading and squeezing away the little mountain range of tension. "Now, you take me inside and make up for the last twenty-eight days of forced abstention."

Standing, Harry keeps Ginny pulled tightly to his chest while her legs wrap around his middle. Despite the dramatic move, Harry's tone is rather light. "I do, you know."

"Do what?"

With a nudge of his foot, the door to his bedroom swings open and Harry pivots so he sits on the unmade bed with Ginny still in his lap. "Love you. Too much."

"I know," Ginny says simply as she tugs Harry's jumper over his head, "I don't just go around throwing myself at random men who have lukewarm feelings."

When he grins, it's that smile that charmed her too many years ago, the one she knows too well for her own sanity. She shoves at his shoulders lightly but with clear purpose and he obeys, dropping back to the bed with a bounce of the springs. "Now. No more talking unless there's moaning involved."


	23. HG - I'm trying to spread my jam with

A/N: So this takes place when Harry's going for a promotion or something after Ginny's graduated from Hogwarts idk.

* * *

When the floo sounds from the other room, Harry's got jam in too many places to actually be an adult, nearly every other surface in the kitchen is covered in stray bits of parchment and too big times, and he's not had a shower in a number of hours that really should be counted in days at this point. (Though for his own sanity, he says seventy-two hours to feel like less of a failure)

And in that moment, as the careful steps sound through his flat, his wand carelessly tossed…somewhere, it crosses his mind that this is how he's going to die. Not at the hands of some dark wizard avenging Voldemort or looking to take his place, just a bumbling home intruder that somehow managed to surpass his safety precautions -

"What in the world are you doing?"

"Waiting to die and trying to spread my jam with a fork," Harry drawls, though he feels some of the tension leave his shoulders at the sound of her voice, that flower scent that wafts through the stale air, "Because at some point, I lost control of my life."

Snorting, Ginny picks her way into the kitchen around crumpled bits of paper and a jumper that itched and annoyed Harry enough that he tossed it across the room and forgot it existed. It's been a rough weekend.

"So it would seem - are you still using the loo or do I need to watch out for little surprises?"

Harry licks the fork and tosses it into the overfull sink with a clatter. "I'm stressed and messy, not disgusting."

"I think you're gathering flies, Harry," Ginny says, coming closer and lifting his lank locks with a frown, "How long since you showered - or I dunno, washed anything?"

"I've got a notoriously hideous exam tomorrow afternoon, I spent most of the last week missing class because Andromeda _and_ Teddy were both sick - and yes I know you'd have helped but you're about to go for try-outs and - "

Ginny raises her palm to cover his lips, "We'll discuss all _that_ ," she gestures widely with her free hand to the excuses littering the unseen ether, "At a later date. You are going to shower, and I am going to try and clean this up. Or I'll just wait here and we can burn the flat down after you're washed."

"Just save my notes."


	24. JL - Hope you don't mind, I stole your

A/N: I did jily!

* * *

The slippery cobblestones turn to soggy grass beneath James' shoes, a bit of water from the mud puddles that now make up most of the grounds worming its way between the worn places and making his socks grotesquely scratchy. But he's a man on a mission, and he'll probably be able to get Remus to sneak him into the Prefect's bath if he asks nicely.

Really though, he's more focused on the very real possibility that he's made a terrible choice and he's about to meet the business end of a certain red-haired muggleborn's wand. He's never been much for thinking ahead - mum says being impetuous is in their blood, which he rather likes. Makes him sound like a bare chested adventure hero rather than a knobby-kneed bloke with half a clue.

After managing to jump a few puddles, James finds his quarry as he rounds the eastern corner of the castle, rain pattering rhythmically overhead as he pauses just out of sight.

"'Lo."

Or so he thought.

"Hallo Evans."

"Guess you know better than to ask if I'm alright," Lily says with a hollow laugh, her eyes dull and overall looking a bit like a drowned rat.

"Sirius was just - I dunno, he's - "

She finally glances up at him fully, leaning back against the rough stone, her robes saggy and stark against her pale skin. "He's fine. I've just had a shite week and he got the brunt of my - whatever. I'll apologize."

"He's no stranger to taking out rage on someone other than the source," James says with a quiet laugh, taking the remaining steps to stand over her and at least keep the driving rain from her already soaked head, "And it's not like he wasn't being a wanker."

"Normally I'm good for a laugh," Lily says with a sigh and a bit of a shiver as she eyes her new shelter.

James ruffles his hair. "Hope you don't mind, I stole your umbrella."

"You'd make a terrible criminal."

"Ah, but wouldn't the best criminal be the one you least suspect capable?"

She smiles finally, a real one, and finally seems to really notice the state of her clothing. "I'm a bit wet."

"Well lets get you inside, and Madam Pompfrey'll set you right up."

Lily rises but her lips tilt downward, "The last thing I want is a night in the Hospital Wing."

Throwing caution to the wind, James tosses his arm around her shoulder and begins leading them on the short trek back to the front of the castle. "I think we can handle that, Poppy and I go way back."

She laughs. "You were a clumsy little firsty."

"Stuff it."


	25. RH - Don't look at me like that

A/N: Little flirty mess. I hope you like :)

* * *

The flour cloud settles atop Hermione's hair like a snow-capped mountain of frizz. She blinks at Ron, who's currently covered in a weird concoction of chocolate, flour, and some unidentifiable gooey substance.

Ron quirks a brow, "Don't look at me like that, I wasn't the one who got us in this mess."

Hermione scoffs, "Excuse _me_ for having faith in my fiance."

"Getting competitive with Fleur, telling everyone you know how to make a perfect chocolate souffle, and not knowing how to bake one - "

"You're the baker, Ronald."

He flushes and ducks his head, "Not souffle."

Turning on the tap, Hermione wets the edge of the one clean tea towel in the entire flat and moves to stand in front of Ron. "Obviously," she says, and despite the sarcasm in her voice, her eyes are soft, "Let me clean you up."

Hermione's remaining focused, despite Ron's best attempts to throw her off - namely bringing his hands to rest on her waist, then letting them slip lower, his fingers teasing at the hem of her shirt. Clearing her throat, Hermione dabs at the chocolate streaks on his jaw, revealing a cluster of freckles she likes to nip at more than she'd admit.

Ron pulls her closer, nuzzling her hairline, then dragging his lips along her temple. "I dunno why you try to compete."

"With Fleur?"

"With anyone."

She laughs, teasing. Or at least in what she intended to be a teasing way and ended up being embarrassingly breathy. "Pretty big words."

"Well, much as I like baking," Ron murmurs, "I'd really like to get out of these clothes and slip into nothing else."

Hermione throws her head back and Ron takes the opportunity to grab her around her legs and lift her from the ground so she collapses over his shoulder. "What's got into you?"

"You're adorable when you're competitive, and these trousers have been driving me batty since the first time you wore them."


	26. HG - My heartbreak can only be mended

A/N: little shorty

* * *

Ginny prods Harry's shoulder a second time, more forcefully, and whines into his ear, " _Please_."

"Couldn't I cheer you up in the quiet of our own home?" Harry asks, "Maybe with the wireless on low and a glowing fire?"

Pressing a kiss to Harry's temple, Ginny lets her hands slide down his chest and whispers, "We can do that _later_ \- but this, my heartbreak; can only be mended through - "

"Don't say it."

"The art of _air guitar_."

Harry grabs her wrists and brushes his thumbs along her pulse points, "How does this help?"

After taking a deep, dramatic breath, Ginny claims the slightly sticky barstool next to Harry and holds his hands in hers. "My team lost horribly, I accepted the win with grace, now I'm slightly drunk in a seedy muggle pub and it's bloody _karaoke_ night so yes. This is what I need."

"To sing music you don't know loudly and horribly?"

"Everyone else seems to be enjoying it."

Slipping from her stool, Ginny pulls harry along with her and toward the stage, "Now come on, we're singing Wannabe - you're doing the rap bit."


	27. HG - Calm down, I haven't even got to

A/N: short little something or other, hopefully it satisfies :) :) Inspired by blvnk-art's **comic** (though not exactly lifted)

10\. "Calm down, I haven't even gotten to the best part yet."

* * *

"So you're telling me, McGonagall's little 'chat' was really a subterfuge?"

Harry drapes himself over the lumpy sofa that takes pride of place in his living room and reaches for Ginny.

Once she's snuggled against his chest, legs tangled with his, he continues, "I get there and _Peeves_ is waiting to greet me in the entrance hall."

"This is _not_ the hilarity fest I was promised when I was told ordering dinner had to wait."

Undeterred, Harry scratches at Ginny's scalp, sliding his fingers to massage the base of her skull in tight circles. "Calm down, dear. I haven't even got to the best part yet."

" _Fine_. Go on."

"So I'm waiting and then McGonagall's says I had 'perfect timing' and before I know it somehow I'm in front of a bunch of third years going all goggly-eyed."

Ginny hums, though whether it's to encourage the storytelling or the massage is unclear at present, so he does both. "And apparently I'm supposed to _teach_ the little prats."

"You loved it, don't lie," Ginny teases, "Also, can't really blame them for being a bit moony-eyed. You're a lot for the thirteen year old brain to handle."

Harry laughs, "I dunno, third year Ginny had no problem turning me down for the Yule Ball."

Pinching his side, Ginny snuggles closer, "Just continue the story Professor - I hope you weren't this long winded in class."

"I was a damn delight, thank you very much," Harry defends, "Had a little wanker sassing McGonagall."

"She's a tough one, not like she can't handle a little troublemaker - you should know that."

"He's a little arsehole," Harry amends, pressing a kiss to Ginny's forehead, "So he tries it on _me_ \- going all 'So you weren't _thirteen_ when you killed that Basilisk, right? It's just a load of trumped up garbage, right?'"

Ginny laughs, "So how'd you shut down the little bugger?"

"Said he was correct - I was twelve."

"Don't sass the sass master."

"Exactly."


	28. HG - Football rivals pt 2

A/N: a continuation of chapter 4 (childhood football rivals) so hopefully it's still cute and captures whatever anon liked about it. xx

* * *

Not many things get near the level of satisfaction Ginny feels after a well played and successful game. Even fewer surpass the feeling and reach the 'utter euphoria' stage.

But overtaking Harry's season goal count, finishing a group project early, finding Harry hidden in her bedroom, and the entire family abandoning the house for the day all happening in one day. - this is probably the happiest Ginny will ever be.

"I'll have to call the bobbies about a break-in."

Harry tucks his hands behind his head. "S'not a break in if you refuse to fix the faulty latch on your window."

"Dad mended it last week."

"Okay, so it's not a break in if I get here just as your mum's off to visit Aunt Muriel and I tell her we've got a project to work on."

Ginny kicks off her shoes and saunters over to her bed. "And what project would that be?"

"Getting you out of that jumper, for starters," Harry drawls like he's flipping Casanova. Which would be much more convincing if he wasn't sporting a spectacular blush.

Clambering up onto the green and gold bedspread, Ginny perches herself on Harry's thighs and fiddles with his belt loops. "How long did it take you to come up with that one?"

"Not half as long as it took to work up the nerve to say it."

With a chuckle, Ginny topples onto the bed next to Harry, one leg and arm still wrapped over top of him as she snuggles close. "No need for that, love. Remember I knew you when you thought that little boyband floppy hairstyle was cute."

"Oi! I caught some eyes that year."

"Yes, followed by pointing and sniggering."

Harry flips onto his side and grabs Ginny's waist, which means she's either about to get the snog of her life or a revenge tickle. _God_ it had better be the former.

"You're such a little wanker."

"Add that to the list of things to say if you don't want me to take off my jumper," Ginny teases, flicking her ill-advised and overgrown fringe out of the way.

His hands slip higher, definitely more of the sensual tickle than the 'we're twelve and I need an outlet for my raging hormones' obnoxia. "What is on the list of things if I _do_ want you to?"

Ginny leans up and kisses him once, twice, a third time, lingering as her fingers run through his gloriously silky locks. "How about, 'Hey gorgeous gift from the gods and woman who is all around better than me, take off your jumper please?'"

Harry begins working his way across her jaw, nips at her ear. "So you want me to lie."

In an expert maneuver, Ginny flips Harry onto his back and tosses her hair back over her shoulder. "I want you to prove I'm not about to round the curves with an eejit."

"Don't get all salty with me," Harry chuckles. Though his light tone is belied by the tremble in his fingers as they toy with the edges of her bra.

Working the first few buttons on his flannel free, Ginny nips at his collar bone. "I have it on good authority you love salty - was that the door?"

Harry sits up abruptly, smacking his forehead into Ginny's. Rubbing at her growing goose egg, Ginny clambers up from the bed and hisses, "I thought Mum was going to Muriel's."

"She is - was - doesn't Muriel live in Chawley?"

"Perhaps Mum's a witch with magical means of travel."

Harry's fiddling with his hair in the mirror to no avail when Ginny comes up behind him and rebuttons the top half of his shirt. "Your hair perpetually has that 'I've just been snogged' look - Mum'll just beg you to let her cut it and then try to fatten you up," she edges him out of the way and winces at her neck, "I'm more concerned about your little handiwork."

Looking entirely too chuffed, Harry begins rooting around in Ginny's cluttered vanity. "Don't you have some shite to cover that up?"

"Normally I show off my bruises - intimidates the competition."

The stairs creak - the third stair if Ginny's an expert, and she is - so thinking quickly, she grabs the nearest bit of clothing and wraps it around her neck in two loops.

She's just realized the error of her ways when Molly knocks on the door and peers in, "Muriel had a last minute engagement so I'm making us some - "

Her eyes dart around the room, taking in Harry's discarded trainers and fidgety hands, the rumpled bed, their utterly unnatural stance shoulder to shoulder, and finally Ginny's rainbow feather boa accessorization.

"Lunch will be ready at half past. Text your mum and tell her _this_ happened two weeks ago and she owes me fifty pounds, or I'll whip out my hand made watering cans and flowers picture book and give you a refresher course."


	29. JL - I'm trying to spread my jam

A/N: LONG overdue prompt fill, I hope you like! feel free to leave me prompts here or hit me up on tumblr!

* * *

"I'm trying to spread my jam with a fork because I lost control of my life" for Jily? (:

Having two roommates is great. You've almost always got someone to hang out wit, rent and other bills are only a third as expensive, and chores are divided between you. Theoretically.

In _reality_ , Sirius feels he's not particularly useful in the home economics department unless it involves calling for take out.

Remus just has a weird thing about cleanliness in the loo and didn't speak to James for a week after he cleaned with the wrong brand bleach.

So in general, James handles stocking the kitchen and he shares the larger cooking duties that involve more than boiling water with Remus.

Their only gap is their universal aversion to doing the dishes.

Everyone's got a different motivation - Sirius hates giving in, Remus doesn't like touching food if the purpose isn't to eat said food, and James gets inexplicably stressed thinking about all the other things he could or should be doing while elbows deep in bubbles.

Usually, though, James is the one who gives in, particularly because Lily _loves_ a good post-meal chat, propped up on the counter with legs swinging and eyes sparkling behind James' stolen specs.

But she's been gone for a week and a half, so he's pretty much going out of his mind with pent up witty barbs and they're down to the last mismatched dinnerware.

Licking a stripe of raspberry jam from the side of his hand, James takes another scoop from the jar and drops it atop his toast with a sigh. Setting his sights on the second bit of toast, James is jolted from his wan thoughts when his mobile lights up on the countertop, Lily's grinning face filling the screen.

Fingers still sticky, James grabs the phone and swipes to accept the call, his voice a bit more breathy and desperate than strictly cool, but it's Lily so. " _Evans_."

"Potter?"

"You _did_ call me."

Her laugh is warm and inviting, an answering smile already spreading over his lips. "How's things?"

"Well, I'm having toast."

"For dinner."

"With jam," James adds.

"You're a bloody mess, love."

Taking a deep breath, James claims a seat at the table, fiddling with his plate as he murmurs, "Yeah, I'm trying to spread jam with a fork because I've lost control of my life without you here."

There's silence on the line for a minute before Lily answers, soft, "I'm not doing so hot here either," she clears her throat, "I mean, the fellowship is great but," Lily sniffs and goes quiet.

James bites at his lip. "Miss me?"

"I miss your baked goods."

"Well, Evans - Lily," James ruffles his hair and throws caution to the wind, "I miss you like hell and uh, whatever this thing is with us. I want us to be."

"An 'us'?"

Rustling sounds on the other end, quiet like Lily's getting comfortable in bed - there's a time difference and she's keeping odd hours to boot - before she answers, a smile evident in her voice. "I do too. Want to be an 'us'."

"Shame we're coming to our senses when a celebratory snog isn't quite in the cards."

"Well there is a little mixer on Friday…"


	30. AM & W - Midnight Quidditch

A/N: some weasley fluff!

* * *

Midnight quidditch games were always magical, that is, until Molly Weasley woke up to the sound of a quaffle hitting the side of her house.

Arthur rouses sleepily, banding his arm around Molly's waist as he murmurs into her messy braid. "Fool that I am, some part of me assumed having no children below the age of seventeen meant I'd get woken by crashes and bangs less."

Molly twists around, a soft smile tickling her lips. "Two of them do own a shop specializing in pranks and jokes."

Grinning, Arthur presses a kiss to Molly's forehead. "Always right, Mollywobbles."

With a chuckle, Molly pulls back and rises from the bed, despite Arthur's protests. "None of that 'Mollywobbles' now, if I don't lay down the law, who knows what they'll get into."

The house creaks and groans around them with the winter winds while Molly claims her dressing gown and tosses Arthur his. "They'll catch their deaths, they will."

"It's Christmas."

Molly pauses at the top of the stairs. "So they can't catch pneumonia?"

Laughter soft, Arthur rights his glasses and shoos her down the stairs. "I bow to your will."

Avoiding the stairs that creak - a habit borne of over twenty years trying desperately to keep sleeping children asleep - the Weasleys make their way down to the first level and peer through the back door toward the snow covered paddock. "Blimey, Molls, they've even got Percy up there."

"I see that - " Molly begins, only to be cut off when a stray bludger cracks against the southern corner of the house, sending shingles rattling, and then she's storming out into the yard, slippers sodden with snow in seconds.

"You're supposed to be adults."

George circles lower and lower, swinging his beater's bat with lazy ease. "We are, that's why we can't get in trouble with our mum anymore."

And before Molly can correct that hideously inaccurate conclusion, a cry sounds from Ginny's old room, loud and piercing in the crisp night air. "A house full of overtired babies will be worse than any punishment I could imagine."


	31. HG - You're cute when you're nervous

A/N: shorty!

* * *

"You're cute when you're nervous, Mr Potter," Ginny murmurs as she shoos Harry's hands away and grabs the two ends of his tie.

Sighing, Harry straightens his glasses and takes a deep breath. "I'm not nervous."

"So you normally take seven tries to get your bowtie done?"

"Is that a problem?"

Ginny rises on tiptoe and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Harry's lips. "Not at all, dear. It's a big deal."

With familiarity that's grown to lovely levels over the last year since Ginny's graduation, Harry's palms rise to her waist as he tugs her closer, dipping down for a deeper press of his lips to hers. Ginny's fingers knit through his newly shorn locks and Harry groans into the kiss, hands slipping up her bared back. "A big deal for you. I mean. I should be comforting you."

"Hm, I'll be nervous later - this dress is currently doing wonders for my self-esteem."

"Well it should be," Harry mutters, running his nose along her neck.

"Getting a handle on your nerves, it seems," Ginny sighs, letting her head tip back to give Harry plenty of room to work.

Until she decides to be a bit more proactive and works the second and third buttons on his shirt free.

Harry chuckles, "I think we're going in the wrong direction."

"How about being fashionably late?"

"It's your party. And I've been told Gwenog's not a fan of tardiness."

They topple backward onto Ginny's bed, springs creaking beneath Harry's back as Ginny laughs. "Well I say warm up snog and damn Gwenog's hissy fits."


	32. JL - What are we going to do now?

A/N: short response to a v old prompt bah

* * *

Lily sighed, and rubbed her eyes. "What are we going to do now?"

"Well whoever dies first should eat the other one," James supplies easily leaning against the hood of his beat up little Volvo.

Wind whistles through the towering trees that sway against the starlit sky, moon hung low over the lonely highway, pale glow glinting off James' spectacles while Lily's laugh bounces off the pavement. "So dramatic."

"We're out of petrol - "

"There's a station a few klicks back," Lily cuts in.

" _Stranded_."

"With two mostly charged mobiles."

James drops back against the windscreen, arm thrown over his face. "In the middle of nowhere."

"Barely five kilometers from your Mum's."

Groaning, James rolls off the edge of the hood and onto the weed-ridden grass. "Can't you just give me this?"

Chuckling, Lily drops down next to him and props her head on her fist. "I'm sorry. Go on."

"I'm so _tired_ and we're out of petrol."

Lily runs one finger over the bridge of his nose, murmuring, "It'll be alright. The walk's not bad."

"And we'll be together."

"Only if you're carrying me."


	33. HG - I slapped your ass in greeting

A/N: ANOTHER. I am trying to start the new year maybe with not a billion leftover prompts. If it's already 2019 for you, Happy New Year!

* * *

Being raised in sports from an early age, Ginny's got a lot of _specific_ things about her personality. Good things - goal oriented, focused, team player. Some bad - she can sometimes get a bit overly competitive (she _did_ get that last bean bag tossed before Ron last Hallowe'en). And some vague in their place on the spectrum of positive-negative. Like high pain tolerance, the ability to run the length of a football field with one broken cleat, and a propensity for arse slapping.

The latter is a newer addition, her team at uni was big on being cohesive and family like. Which meant bi-weekly pizza parties and smacking each other in greeting, congratulations, and sometimes gratitude because what even _are_ boundaries.

And at some point, in the over-tired haze of the last semester of uni, when Hermione began to enforce her study time table in earnest, Ginny introduced arse slapping into their partnership. Got an A? One slap. Brought coffee for yourself _and_ your beautiful study buddy? Two slaps. Got doughnuts to go along? A damn kiss on the lips. (Hermione's are shockingly soft)

So when Ginny arrives home sweaty and sore and finds Hermione fixing the leaky sink in the kitchen of their shared flat, bushy hair invisible in the dark cavern of slightly molded cabinetry, it's like second nature to smack her little pert rear - someone's been doing more yoga. "You're the best, love."

Grabbing an apple from their fruit basket - because they're bloody adults who have _fruit_ on their countertop - Ginny dusts it off on her sleeve and takes a bite out as Hermione rises and is...not Hermione.

Unless Hermione grew a foot, got glasses, and the most hypnotizing emerald eyes Ginny's ever seen. No, Ginny just smacked the plumber's butt.

"I uh - sorry I thought Hermione was - "

He - the name tag is missing from his t-shirt - ruffles that hurricane of ebony hair and shuffles his feet. "She stepped out so."

"That was - I play football and - "

He grins and Ginny's heart nearly stops. "S'alright. I played all the way through A-levels. Arse slapping is a way of life."

"And yours is a nice one," Ginny adds, because apparently she's been hit in the head one too many times.

An adorable flush rises on his cheeks and he offers his hand, "I'm Harry, Hermione's - "

The front door thuds open and Hermione shakes the rain from her umbrella, "Harry. Oh, I was hoping I could introduce you."

Sending Ginny a wink, Harry takes one of the grocery bags from Hermione and shrugs one shoulder. "We did just fine."

While Harry starts clearing up his tools, Hermione drags Ginny toward the pantry under the guise of unpacking the groceries and pitches her voice low, "Harry's the friend I told you about - primary school teacher with the best sticky buns I've ever tasted."

Ginny steals a glance at Harry as he dusts off his trousers and murmurs, "Oh yes. He's got some great buns."


	34. HG - I slapped your ass part 2

A/N: this is for Jul! Happy New Year everyone! Continues the last chapter

* * *

In general, Weasleys are a physical bunch. Whether it's wrestling in the yard, dogpiles in front of the fire amid piles of torn wrapping paper, or accidental snuggling after the eggnog has gone to their heads, they are a tactile people.

It took Hermione halfway through her first year as Ginny's flat age to adjust to the preening, hair touches, late night movie cuddles, back rubs, and tipsy kisses.

Ginny's always been fine with it, more than. It's part of her identity, Weasley, red head, platonic physical touch activist.

Her first real second guessing of the practice only comes up when Harry enters her life. The benefit is she got to touch that glorious bum within moments of meeting. The negative is generally, people recommend watching for physical cues to determine whether someone fancies you, but if she employs that method she fancies half her club and she's in love with Hermione.

Which, it's lucky she doesn't because Ron's pining something awful and She doesn't particularly feel like wrestling out their sibling angst.

But Harry really has created a problem, because he _loves_ this whole Weasley togetherness thing and also hanging around Hermione and Ginny's flat. A lot.

So there's take out dinners and video game tournaments and movie nights - all involving lots of forehead kisses, knee squeezes, and arms wrapped around shoulder. Just to name a few.

And if it was centralized on Ginny, she'd just throw caution to the wind and daylights out of him. But first, they're never alone, second he's practically spooned Ron on at least four occasions, and Ginny's kissed Hermione even more times than that. So this group clearly doesn't limit physical affection to romantic relationships.

Although, the frustration is somewhat allayed by the cinnamon spiced scent of Harry as he wraps an easy arm around Ginny's shoulders, or the silken texture of his wild curls when he drops his head into her lap and nuzzles her hand like a love starved kitten.

It's one such evening - Harry's stretched across the couch, nose pressing into her belly as he dozes, breaths tickling the sliver of bare skin exposed by her hiked up jumper - when Ginny finally decides enough is enough.

Hermione and Ron disappeared for a _not date_ to see some film where they will definitely not snog in the back row. Ginny's got questions prepared because she's not sure if she wants to see the film and definitely wants to see Hermione blush her way through a lie.

But Ron's stumbling through romance are secondary to Harry's warm presence in her lap.

Biting her lip, Ginny prods his shoulder. "Harry. Hey."

His arms tighten around her waist and he snuggles closer, hum rumbling through her. "Yeah?"

"Do you, uh."

"I dunno what 'uh' is, but I guess I probably do?"

"Don't be such a little arsehole."

Harry flips onto his back and grins. "It's my brand. Without it I'm a bland, specky git."

Ginny reaches down and runs her fingers through his hair. "S'not all."

Pushing up, Harry re-situates himself until he's got one leg tucked under him and his hands pressed on either side of Ginny's hips, his nose close to hers. "Oh really?"

His eyes bore into hers, his breath heavy with the chocolate bar they nicked from Hermione's 'secret' stash in her closet, his thumbs teasing at the hem of her shorts. "Yes. Yes Harry James Potter. You're a bloody buggering _unreadable tease_ and I want to throw you down and have my way with you on the kitchen table. But you're a freaking platonic cuddling, cheek kissing, hand holding _machine_ and if I didn't know better I'd have thought you were dating my brother."

Ginny's chest rises and falls in heaving breaths and Harry - the wanker - looks like he's about to laugh. "Done?"

Biting her lip, Ginny shrugs one shoulder. "Yeah, I think so - your freaking tempting hair goes without saying."

"Can I kiss you now, or do you want to shout some more?"

"Platonic or?"

Chuckling, Harry leans in and drops his forehead to hers. "And you say _I'm_ an arsehole."


	35. HG - Quidditch T-Shirt

A/N: Little shorty! prompt from tumblr woo

* * *

It's mostly a gag gift, the shirt.

He'd been jogging through Muggle London on one of the beautifully few sunny days that graces the city when the sign in the little shop caught his eye - Custom T-shirts while you wait!

And then, like a miracle, he had an epiphany for the perfect congratulatory present for Ginny after officially signing with the Harpies.

If it was a serious gift, he'd have got it in the official colors, agonized over typeface and what have you. But it's not. So he settles for green - bright enough that he feels the urge to shade his eyes - and equally as obnoxious yellow.

And for font style, the only real option is Comic Sans.

The clerk gives him an odd look when he says it should read 'Best Quidditch Player in the World,' but seems to lose interest in it fairly quickly, shrugging away his curiosity and disappearing into the back so he can get that whole 'while you wait' but rolling.

On the way back to his flat, he picks up a gift bag with a garish - and decidedly inaccurate - unicorn gracing the shiny paper and addresses the little card with a flourish.

With barely enough time left for a quick shower, Harry tosses his sweaty clothes into the hamper and rinses the grime away. And by the time he's out, towel wrapped loosely around his waist, Ginny's sat at his little kitchenette, staring at the bag like it's a mystery to be solved.

She glances up and smirks, "Two gifts for me? Extravagant."

Harry narrows his eyes in confusion (and also he can't see so well sans glasses) until Ginny dramatically dips her gaze to his bare chest and he feels himself begin to preen a bit at her attention. "I live to spoil you."

Ginny winks. "Can I open it?"

"Can I put on pants?"

Her brows lift as she considers him, head to toe, before she answers, "Nope. Now have a seat and flex a bit. You know you want to."

Complying with a grin, Harry settles down across from Ginny, the chill in the room increasingly noticeable in his pectoral area. Which Ginny has definitely noticed.

Bouncing a bit, she pulls the bag into her lap and tosses the first few bits of tissue paper free and lets them drift to the floor and for the first time, Harry does get a little nervous. It's fun and silly, but mostly it's a shite gift. What if she's expecting jewelry or chocolates or -

Before he can go too far off the rails, Ginny pulls the starchy cotton free and lets the hem drop, her dark eyes taking in the print wordlessly.

Harry bites his lip while Ginny continues to study the gift. Until she finally lets it drop to her lap and glances at Harry, expression unreadable. "This. This is the greatest thing I have ever seen."  
"I thought it would be a laugh."

It's already halfway over her head when Ginny says, muffled, "I am never taking this off."

Chuckling, he scoots closer and helps pull the shirt down over her head. "Ever?"

Hair frizzing about her face, Ginny answers, "Ever."

Which Harry assumed was something of an exaggeration.

Until they're snogging and then some later that night and his hands tease at the hem of her shirt and she bloody slaps his hands away. And not for the expected reason.

Still, he wasn't unreasonable to think she'd get over the excitement soon enough and maybe wouldn't follow through.

Years down the road, Harry would look back and laugh at his foolish young self for underestimating Ginny's enthusiasm and ability to follow through. But present-day Harry is still ignorant in this area. Therefore, he is surprised to arrive at Sunday dinner at the Burrow and find his girlfriend proudly displaying her new t-shirt for her brothers, making sure the unearthly colors are visible to Charlie and Ron as she discusses her first practice.

Molly's shaking her head in the kitchen as she stirs some steaming something that smells delicious, a fond smile on her lips as her family assembles with laughter and teasing.

Slipping into the empty seat at Ginny's side, Harry presses a kiss to her temple and she responds with a squeeze of his knee. When Charlie begins regaling them with some tale from his adventures in Romania, Ginny drops her head on Harry's shoulder. "Hello dear."

"Nice shirt."

"It's damn amazing."


	36. HG - Heart eyes and then some

Over the year and a half they've been married, Harry's come to realize a few things about his wife. She's tiny, but he definitely shouldn't mention it, she's probably allergic to the laundry basket if her complete avoidance is anything to go by, and she's at her most attractive when it's the least convenient moment to act on it.

Which means Harry's half out of his mind not even thirty minutes into the Auror Department picnic.

Somebody's grilling various meats and vegetables and Harry barely ate a slice of toast before his morning with Teddy. But his hunger pangs are nothing next to Ginny's sun warmed face as she gathers her little swarm of eager young fliers and leads them toward a bare stretch of grass where there are a few practice quaffles lying about.

And it gets about a thousand times worse when she tosses her hair up into a careless ponytail and settles her shades more firmly across the bridge of her nose, all business.

Luckily, perhaps, Harry's not given too much time to consider his wife and all of her lovely attributes because it seems everyone in the department is taking this whole 'bond with your coworkers' bit to heart.

He does get caught up in the fun and games, joining in on a few of the usual field day type activities - Rhonda from Muggle Relations has damn pointy elbows and a high level of motivation to win three-legged races - before settling down at one of the many tables scattered around the park. Tucking in to his 'I didn't know you could prepare this many things using a grill' lunch, Harry takes a breath and feels himself relax for the first time since they arrived at the park that afternoon as the sun drops lower and a soft breeze rustles the leaves overhead.

A breeze that then carries a familiar floral scent and quiet chuckle. "Look at you, Mr Life of the Party."

Ginny's hands rest on his shoulders, kneading gently while Harry swipes at his mouth with a papery serviette. "I mingled!"

"Sure."

"I've got the bruises to prove it."

"Rhonda is rough," Ginny concedes, straddling the bench next to Harry, "I'm thinking of starting a little Pee Wee Quidditch league though."

Pushing his plate away, Harry twists in his seat and reaches out to touch the ends of GInny's wild hair. "Sounds lovely - can we press pause on that for another day, like tomorrow?"

Ginny smirks and pats his knee. "Afraid they'll like me better?"

"I pretty much assume everyone will like you more than me."

"Ah, and the marriage was just a ruse to get some of that animal charisma by association?"

Harry leans in and presses a kiss to her lips. "That. And so when you get all enthusiastic in public and then I get enthusiastic, I can lean in close and ask you to come home with me and -"

Her hand on his thigh tightens as she gasps out. "Let's get out of here, yeah?"


	37. HG - fake phone call

A/N: prompt from tumblr! also we did a follow up to kindle over on itsblissfuloblivion if anyone wants it!

* * *

Houdini himself, Harry muses, would have had trouble extricating himself from the trap that is monthly department budget meetings.

Throughout the hellacious process of becoming a board certified medical doctor, Harry had been warned about many things, including but not limited to burn out, getting a god complex, trusting his instincts, keeping up to date with new advancements, the list is pretty endless.

But no one sufficiently explained the disgusting level of boredom that could set in when entering hour _three_ of budgetary allotments.

It's pretty difficult to get free, even though he's _long_ since got what he wanted, and his interest in the welfare of the hospital and its patients is certainly real. But he's also surpassed his usefulness. Harry's pull begins and ends with his department and he definitely used up all of his best bargaining chips for his own selfish needs. If selfish needs is the correct term for getting funding for new tech in the children's wing.

Regardless, he can't help Neville except by sharing commiserating glances and Ginny's finally home (according to her increasingly imploring and misspelled texts) and Harry just _really_ wants to leave.

When no one's looking, he sends the pre agreed upon emoji (which Ginny refers to as the 'dead inside clown') and settles his phone back down onto the table as quietly as possible.

A few minutes pass and he begins to think Ginny's abandoned him to the terror of MgGonagall's stare and Moody's endless supply of grisly ER stories, but his phone vibrates once, then again, and continues with the steadiness that indicates an incoming phone call.

He stands and gestures to his phone, moving toward the far corner and earning a suspicious glare from Neville as he answers. "Hello?"

"Well hello there, Dr. Potter."

"What's up, I'm in a budget meeting."

There's a pause and he hears the unmistakable sound of a zipper - oh god. She's probably wearing that sports bra that ... "What are you wearing in that budget meeting, Dr. Potter?"

Harry clears his throat. "I uh - is it urgent?"

"Mhm, it's _very_ urgent. I'm a visual person and if you're not going to come here and help me out then the least you can do is give me a little _mobile assistance_."

His tie is _really_ too tight. Desperately, he tugs at the knot and loosens the top two buttons on his shirt. "Can't wait?"

Ginny's answer is practically a _purr_. "I'm not a patient woman."

A flush _definitely_ rises on Harry's cheeks and Neville's smirking so he _really_ needs to expedite this conversation.

"Well if your mum really doesn't feel alright."

"Please don't bring my mum into this - I'm currently soaking in a rose scented bathtub."

Harry's mouth is very dry. "...Sure. Yes. Let's. I'll meet you there."

"If you don't hurry I'll be forced to slip under the freshly laundered silk sheets all by myself."

Grasping his forehead with one hand, Harry takes one steadying breath, hangs up, and turns to McGonagall, "I, uh. Sorry to interrupt but there's a problem at home."

McGonagall lets the stack of papers fanned out between her hands rest on the shined tabletop and narrows her eyes at Harry. "Yes, you're released."

Not wanting to push his luck, Harry quickly gathers his things as chatter resumes (dropping more than a few folders and files in his shaky haste) and makes his move toward the door. _Home free_.

Until McGonagall sniffs and pauses, glancing at him over her shoulder. "Tell Ginerva we said hello."

Moody snorts and Harry manages to stammer out some sort of agreement to do so and spills out into the empty hallway. " _Weasley, you are a damn menace_."


	38. HG - thrown off a building

A/N: little prompt fill from tumblr! hope you like

* * *

The pizza's cold.

It's a small issue. There's the oven, the microwave, the countless spells he could cast with his wand to bring it back to the ideal temperature.

He's not usually such a huge prat about things, but Harry's so hungry. And very tired. And really just wants an evening with his girlfriend where they're both conscious and around and watching a stupid film together.

To be fair, he's cancelled about five hundred times more than Ginny ever has. But this time, he essentially told off Robards and ordered two large pizzas to drown his sorrows while he and Ginny watched whatever the latest big budget action film they'd selected on the telly.

But, he's hungry and tired so he's not very reasonable at the moment.

So when the lock of his front door clicks, Harry's a bit angry, but at the world in general. Ginny just gets the brunt of his frustration. He's not proud, far from it.

He hears her drop her bag with a glatter. "You'll never guess what - "

"Welcome to our date two hours late," Harry drawls, slouching further down on the couch, "Almost late enough that it's tomorrow."

Her brows rise. "Well thanks for that warm welcome. I could just leave and come back when you feel less like an ass."

Harry's chastised enough that he's more pouty than angsty at this point, but he's a stubborn little prat, so he grumbles, "Then the frigid pizza's for nothing."

Ginny kicks his legs, jostling his feet from their place on the coffee table. "Care to enlighten me on this little funk that's being foisted on me after I was thrown off a building?"

Halfway through her inquiry, Harry was ready to cut in with some sort of cutting rejoinder, but at the mention of defenestration, his tack changes and he's already on his feet, wand in hand. "What the - who threw you?"

Smirking, Ginny drops down onto the couch and tugs Harry back into his seat. "Nobody threw me."

"But you - you said 'thrown off a building.'"

She inches closer and throws her legs over Harry's lap, her head pillowed on his shoulder. "I needed to get your attention. Nothing like a crime to get Auror Potter in gear."

"So you didn't?

Ginny laughs, fiddling with a little hole worn in his t-shirt absently, "I did almost fall off the roof - me and the other chasers were messing about on a break and the quaffle ended up on top of the clubhouse and I figured I'd just get it."

"And…"

"And I got off my broom so I could climb across the roof and a gust caught me in the crosswinds and well. It's lucky I'm so quick to climb on my broom," Ginny says, a bit of flirtatious mischief tinging her voice as the sentence comes to a close.

Harry's fingers tease at the hem of her jersey and Ginny melts, just for a moment, before pulling away. He's honest enough to own the near whine that squeezes from his throat.

Her finger's aimed between his brows and her look is no nonsense and far from the flirtation of just seconds before. Which in theory is good for her cause, but in reality, Harry's got quite a thing for Ginny's 'serious' face.

Ginny knows, but she's also not going to let him off so easy. At least not yet. It's one of Harry's favorite things about her, when he's out of the heat of things and in a more reasonable mood. Even before they were together, she didn't hesitate to tell him when he was being a dumb little arsehole. Savior or no, Ginny Weasley took guff from no man.

"I may be randy, but I want an apology first," Ginny says, "Tell me you're sorry for being a toe rag."

Harry laughs, "You know Mum called Dad a toe rag once."

"Don't blame this on genetics," Ginny answers, "You worked yourself up into that lather all on your own."

He shrugs and pulls Ginny closer. "Nah, I know. But maybe it's a Potter thing to fall for redheads who don't take guff."

Ginny hums. "I'll accept that."

"Good enough for me."


	39. R & H - Skin

Ron slumps down further in his chair, scratching at his chest. "So what is it?"

Harry blinks once, twice, a third time at the bottom of his glass, swirling the amber liquid. "It was firewhiskey when I poured it."

Ron grunts.

"And there's smoke coming out of your ears."

Another grunt. " _God_ you can be such a little prat, can't you."

After topping off each of their glasses and taking a healthy swallow, Harry acknowledges Ron's statement. "Aye. I believe they had meetings about me at Hogwarts on just that subject."

"Imagine you have kids and they see that detention record," Ron muses, "You'll have nothing to say."

With a sigh, Harry lifts his feet onto the bench and tilts his head against the back of the seat. "Mm. But my delinquent ways will allow me to anticipate the little rascals."

"Rascals?"

"Bound to be, my genes and Ginny's? Total devils," Harry says, arching back as he lets the rest of his firewhiskey burn down his throat.

Aberforth drops a basket of greasy chips on the table. "Sop up some of that, y'drunks," he glances down at Harry's mud caked boots, "You stain that bench, you replace it."

Ron snorts as Harry props his legs on the table instead. "Has he _seen_ his bar? Hardly a den of cleanliness."

"Now who's a little prat?"

"Back to my original question," Ron says, grabbing for the bottle and emptying the remaining whiskey into his glass.

"I thought I answered it - didn't I?"

"I never finished it," Ron corrects with a slow blink, scratching at the long-healed scars running up his arms, "What is it you like 'bout Ginny? Skin? She's got nice skin I guess."

"Yes, Ron. I love your sister for her skin. Are you recording this? Have I offended you? Because you're making me sound like a serial murderer," Harry drawls, dropping back against the slightly sticky wall.

"Jus' askin'," Ron says, hands raised defensively.

"I can see the headline tomorrow - Potter Marries Wife For Skin Suit: Wizarding World in Uproar," Harry projects dramatically, hand arcing in a mock-up of a newsprint header.

Ron frowns. "What? Weasleys have notoriously smooth skin, much to Charlie's chagrin."

"Are _you_ a serial murderer?"

With a dramatic harrumph, Ron drags the chips toward his chest. "No chips for you."


	40. HG - I can explain

**A/N: I hope you like! flirty, fluffy, a little sultry. Gonna cut off this collection here! Hope you enjoyed them**

It's late, when Ginny gets home. The kitchen light is on, a dish covered with foil and a messy little note on top, because Harry can be as much of a mother hen as Molly Weasley when he's in the mood.

Bone tired as she is, Ginny also hasn't eaten since 11:30 lunch with her agent. Demelza's always a laugh, but business is still business and it feels like her mind has been whirring since four this morning.

Still, there's no reason she can't multitask. So she grabs a fork and tucks in, moaning around a mouthful of mashed potatoes while she kicks off her shoes, works her trousers down her legs, releases her hair from its braid. By the time she's finished with her double portion of cottage pie, Ginny's ready to swallow a glass of wine, cuddle up in her pajamas, and drift off to sleep next to her adorable husband.

She's checked off goals one and two and thrown in a quick face wash and tooth brushing, when a gasp sounds from the bedroom.

Even this long since the war, it's not unusual for either of them to wake up gasping for air, phantom loved ones just out of their reach. And Harry, well it's not as if dark wizards and death are ever far from his mind, given his chosen career.

But when she enters the bedroom, it's not quite as dark as she expected, or as…sleepy. Instead of Harry's curled up form resting cozily beneath the covers, their bed looks like a - tent?

Something's glowing from the inside, probably Harry's wand if she's guessing.

Padding around the bed softly, Ginny finds a break in the sheets and pokes her head in. Harry drops his book and nearly his wand - probably best that he's overcome that impulse, given his profession - "You're home."

"You, young man, have work in the morning."

"Gin, I promise I can explain."

With a grin, Ginny gently crawls into the fort and settles in next to him. "I'm listening."

"So I - what time is it?"

Ginny fumbles around for Harry's bookmark - World's Best Reader, a gift from Hermione when she discovered his New Year reading resolution - and slips it in place before setting it aside. "Late. It's very late."

"Emma is _totally_ not picking up on Mr. Knightley mooning over her and it's like the stress of Ron and Hermione all over again," Harry moans, "I mean, the personalities aren't a match but damn."

Humming thoughtfully, Ginny snuggles into his side. "It's a lot. People should just snog in front of their entire house instead of all this _will they won't they_ business."

"Some pining is good though," Harry says, soft.

"Within reason," Ginny amends, "Sometimes you have to put a poor bloke out of his misery before he gets brain damage from bludgers to the head."

"Excuse me, who put whom out of their misery?"

"The leaper - not the leapee," Ginny asserts, "Also you still haven't explained the fort."

"Forts are fun," Harry shrugs, "And that was a _hug_ until I snogged the daylights out of you."

Ginny sits back with a grunt. " _Until you_?"

Harry quirks his brow. "Yes. And forts are not for fighting, they're for _fun_."

As he leans in, Ginny tilts her head so Harry can work his way down her neck, nipping and teasing. But she's not about to let the subject get changed. Playful arguing is one of her top favorite methods of foreplay.

"That," Ginny sighs, "Is absolutely false. Forts are specifically for fighting."

"Not pillow forts."

"These are - ah - sheets."

Ginny rolls over, grinning down at him. "These are sheets, we're under them, it's late."

"And I'm on administrative leave," Harry adds, mostly a moan.

Pulling back, lips red and face flushed, Ginny squints. "Front page worthy?"

"A given, but not the main headline," Harry answers, lifting her top off.

"We'll discuss later - usual?"

"Arsehole potential suspect, long week, grinding wheels of justice."

She kisses him, long and lingering and pulls away with barely a whisper. "Yum. I love bad-boy Potter."


End file.
